Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seattle feels wrong in the heat.
It’s too bright, too heavy, too still like the city is holding its breath.

Meredith stands barefoot in her kitchen, hair down, a sheen of humidity glinting on her collarbone as she packs her kids’ lunch boxes. The fan on the counter does little more than stir the hot air around. Even the strawberries look tired.

Her phone buzzes once, skittering slightly against the countertop. She glances down, sees Bailey’s name, and taps it open with a thumb still sticky from jelly.
‘You’ll never guess who’s back on the surgical roster,’ Bailey’s text reads.
‘Who?’ Meredith types back, not thinking much of it.
‘Addison.’

She stares at the name for a second too long.
Addison.
Of course.

She sets the phone down beside the strawberries and exhales, slow and even. The noise of the fan fills the silence ,white noise for thoughts she doesn’t want to have.

The sound of footsteps comes from the hall, light and lazy. “We’re out of coffee again,” Amelia says, voice already edged with caffeine withdrawal.

Meredith doesn’t turn around. “It’s too hot for coffee.” “That’s not a thing,” Amelia says, crossing into the kitchen. She’s barefoot too, curls frizzy from the humidity, holding a mug that probably hasn’t been washed since last night. “What’s your excuse today?”

Meredith seals a sandwich container. “The heat. The children. Existential dread. Take your pick.”

Amelia leans against the doorway. “You heard the news, right?”

“Which news?” Meredith asks, though she already knows. “Addison,” Amelia says, watching her closely. “She’s coming back to Grey Sloan. Something about a surgical trial and needing her old OR back.”
Meredith slices an apple, too neatly. “Good for her. She’s a great surgeon.”

Amelia hums. “Mhm. Is it gonna be weird?” Meredith looks up briefly. “Why does everyone assume it’ll be weird?”

“She’s like my sister, you’re like my sister. Just I don’t want it to be weird ” Amelia says, her grin sly but not unkind. Meredith sighs and keeps cutting. “ Then stop making it weird. It’s been, what, over a decade? We’re adults now. Colleagues. Friends maybe. ” Meredith puts her hands up turning around.

Amelia lifts a brow. “Friends? You sure about that?” . “Why not?” Meredith says. “People change. Addison and I we went through hell with Derek, sure, but it’s ancient history. She made my life miserable once, but she also made me stronger. I can respect that.”
Amelia hops onto the counter, smirking. “You realize you sound like someone giving a eulogy.”

Meredith gives her a look. “You’re projecting. That’s what this is.” “Uh-huh,” Amelia says, unconvinced. “You just have that voice. The one where you’re pretending you don’t care, but you’re already overthinking it.” Meredith rolls her eyes and drops the knife into the sink. “I am not overthinking it. I have three children, two surgical trials, and a heatwave to think about. Addison Montgomery’s return ranks about twelfth on my list of current crises.”

“Right,” Amelia says. “And yet, you’re slicing apples like they personally offended you. Meredith presses her lips together, but the corner of her mouth twitches. They fall quiet for a moment. The only sound is the low buzz of the fan, the soft clink of containers.

“She always looked so put together,” Amelia says eventually. “Even when everything was falling apart. It’s kind of annoying.”

Meredith lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah. That’s her thing. Flawless hair, perfect posture, zero sweat no matter how hot it gets.” She glances toward the window, sunlight spilling across the counter. “Meanwhile, I look like I’m melting.”

“You’re fine,” Amelia says, sipping her coffee. “You’re intimidating in a completely different way.”

“Intimidating isn’t the same as graceful,” Meredith mutters. “It’s better,” Amelia counters. Then, softer: “Hey, seriously. You okay about this?”

Meredith looks up, not defensive now, just thoughtful. “Yeah. I am. We’ve both moved on. She’s… a part of the past. That’s all.”

Amelia studies her face for a moment, then nods, hopping down from the counter. “Okay. But if you start stress-baking later, I’ll know why.”

“I only stress-bake during pandemics,” Meredith says dryly. Amelia smirks, heading for the door. “Good to know. I’ll see you at the hospital. Try not to melt before then.”

When she’s gone, Meredith leans against the counter for a moment, looking at the quiet house. She’s not lying, she is fine. Or close enough to it that she can pretend. But still, the name lingers. Addison Montgomery. It doesn’t sting like it used to. It just… echoes.

By the time Zola runs in asking about sunscreen and lunch boxes, Meredith’s back in motion, the steady hum of her routine swallowing whatever flicker of curiosity Addison’s name had lit.

Still, as she locks the front door and steps out into the glaring, golden heat, she catches herself wondering what Addison will look like now even though she often sees her posts on facebook or Instagram. She wonders what she’ll say when she sees her again.

 

Seattle greets her with heat that sticks to the skin and light that’s too bright for nostalgia.

Addison Montgomery pauses on the sidewalk outside Grey Sloan, one hand resting on the strap of her bag, the other clutching a coffee that’s already lukewarm. For a moment, she just watches the hospital doors slide open and shut, the same rhythm, the same energy, a decade later.

She takes a breath that’s steadier than she feels.
Then she walks in.

Inside, it smells the same, disinfectant, coffee, and the faint scent of rain clinging to scrubs. The chatter of nurses, the beep of monitors, the rush of gurneys. It’s chaos wrapped in comfort.

“Dr. Montgomery,” comes a familiar voice.

Addison turns, and her face breaks into a genuine smile. “Dr. Bailey. Dr. Webber. My favorite duo of mildly judgmental geniuses.”

Bailey crosses her arms, fighting a grin. “I see Los Angeles hasn’t cured your arrogance.”

“I tried humility once,” Addison says. “Didn’t suit me.”

Webber chuckles, pulling her into a brief, warm hug. “It’s good to have you back, Addison.”

“Don’t say that,” she says softly. “You’ll make me believe it’s permanent.”

Bailey tilts her head toward the elevators. “Come on, then. Let’s get you settled before you melt into the floor.”

They walk through the corridors of fluorescent light and nostalgia. Addison’s eyes flicker over familiar corners, remembering surgeries, tears, laughter, love, and loss. Every step feels like a heartbeat echoing from another life.

Bailey catches her glance. “Lot’s changed since you were last here.”

Addison hums. “So I’ve heard. Though, judging by the chaos in the pit, not that much.”

Bailey snorts. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough. You’ve got residents following your surgery today. Try not to terrify them.”

“Why?” Addison asks, feigning innocence. “Fear is a powerful learning tool.”

Webber laughs. “She’s still the same.”

A few minutes later, they reach the conference room. Through the glass wall, Addison spots a group of residents jittery, whispering, pretending not to be terrified.

She can’t help the smirk that forms.
God, she’s missed this.

Bailey opens the door. The chatter stops instantly.

Addison steps inside like she owns the room, because, in a way, she always did. Her heels click across the floor, her red hair catches the light, and she lets silence hang just long enough to make them squirm.

When she finally speaks, her voice is crisp and magnetic “I’m Dr. Addison Montgomery,” she says, eyes sweeping the room. “And you must be the group that’s been screwing up the program.” The words hit like a scalpel. sharp, clean, precise.

A few nervous chuckles ripple through the group. One intern looks like they might faint. Another drops their pen. Bailey tries not to smile. Webber folds his arms, clearly entertained.

Addison tilts her head, lips curving. “Good. You’re still conscious. That’s a start. Now, let’s see if you can survive me.”

 

When the interns scatter out, whispering about how terrifyingly beautiful she is, Bailey shakes her head. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

Addison shrugs, unbothered. “What? I’m establishing dominance.”

“Or trauma,” Bailey mutters.

“Either works,” Addison says smoothly, tugging on her gloves.

Webber chuckles. “You really haven’t changed.”

Addison pauses for half a beat — long enough for her smile to falter, just slightly. “No,” she says softly. “Not in the ways that matter.”

Bailey gestures toward the OR wing. “Come on, hotshot. Let’s get you to your patient.”

Addison nods and follows, but as they turn the corner, her gaze catches on a familiar name on an office door:

Dr. Meredith Grey.

The sight stills her steps.
For a moment, her practiced composure slips something warm and complicated flickers behind her eyes.

Then she straightens, smooths her hair, and keeps walking
The hospital hums with the kind of energy that only comes when a legend walks back through its doors.

Word travels fast in Grey Sloan, faster than a page, faster than a code blue. By noon, half the hospital knows that Dr. Addison Montgomery is back. By twelve-oh-five, everyone’s already talking about her.

In the residents’ lounge, Levi Schmitt, Jo Wilson, and Taryn Helm hover around the coffee machine like it’s the epicenter of all vital information.

Levi’s eyes are wide as he stirs his cup. “I mean she just walked in, you guys. Like this perfectly tailored, red-haired storm of confidence and judgment. I think she made three interns cry.”

Levi laughs, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, and she called us the group that’s been screwing up the program.”

Jo gasps. “No. She didn’t.”

“She absolutely did,” helm says, smirking. “honestly? Iconic.” Jo states.

Helm, sitting on the counter, scrolls through her tablet like she’s not listening but she is. She’s always listening when Meredith Grey’s name might come up.

Jo lowers her voice. “You know, Addison Montgomery was Derek Shepherd’s ex-wife.”

Helm raises a brow. “You don’t say.”

Levi ignores the sarcasm. “And Meredith was—”

“—the other woman,” Helm finishes flatly, not looking up.

Jo winces. “Oof. That’s ancient history, though. Right?”

Helm finally looks up from her screen, deadpan. “Nothing is ancient in this hospital. It’s Grey Sloan. Ghosts practically scrub in with us.”

Levi snorts. “Still, can you imagine being Addison? Coming back to the place where your ex-husband worked with the woman he left you for?”

Jo gives him a look. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I’m not judging,” Levi protests. “I’m just saying that’s a lot of emotional geometry for one hospital.”

Helm rolls her eyes but hides a smile behind her cup. “You’re all forgetting something.”

Jo glances over. “What’s that?”

Helm leans back against the counter, casual but certain. “Addison Montgomery might be a legend, she’s brilliant, she’s terrifying, and she probably smells like money and good decisions, but I’m Team Grey.”

Levi blinks. “Team… Grey?”

Helm shrugs. “Always. Meredith’s been through hell and came out standing taller. She’s earned her spot as the sun around here.”

Levi nods slowly, thoughtful. “Okay, fair. But you have to admit, it’s kind of poetic. Addison and Meredith, two ends of the same story, back in the same building.”

Helm’s gaze flickers, something unreadable in her tone. “Yeah. And I don’t think that story’s over yet.”

A beat of silence follows filled only by the hum of the vending machine and the distant echo of Addison’s voice down the hall.

Levi exhales dramatically. “Well. If anything explodes, I’m grabbing popcorn.”

Jo grins. “You’ll have to share.”

Helm doesn’t answer. She just looks toward the hallway where Addison’s heels click against the tile sharp, steady, unstoppable and then toward the wing where Meredith’s office sits, quiet and still.

Yeah, she thinks. Something’s coming.

The residents have barely recovered from Addison’s first words, the legendary line about “screwing up the program” when Jo, ever eager to make a good impression, steps forward.

“Hi — I’m Jo Wilson,” she says, extending her hand. “I’m one of the new OB residents —”

Addison doesn’t look at her hand. Instead, she tilts her head, scanning Jo like she’s evaluating whether she’s a problem or entertainment. Her red hair catches the fluorescent light, and her eyes glint with amused authority.

“Great. Coffee,” Addison says, casually.

Jo blinks. “Uh… coffee?”

“Yes,” Addison says, perfectly calm, perfectly commanding. “Black. Sweet. Please.”

Jo fumbles, glancing at Levi and Helm, who are staring as if this were some sort of performance art. Levi whispers, “You’re supposed to get it for her?”

Helm shrugs. “Welcome to Addison Montgomery’s world. Just go with it.” Whispers.

Jo gulps. “Right. Black. Sweet. Got it.”

Addison finally glances at her hand, but only long enough to nod once. “See? You already passed the first test. Efficiency is key.”

Jo nods furiously, trying not to spill the cup she hasn’t even picked up yet.

Addison turns her attention back to the room of wide eyed residents , her voice crisp and confident. “Now that we’ve covered introductions, let’s get to the part where I see if you can actually survive me.”

Levi mutters under his breath, half to himself, half to the room: “I’m never drinking coffee again.”

Jo shoots him a glare but can’t help laughing a little nervous, a little thrilled.

Helm smirks, crossing her arms. “Yep. Addison Montgomery is exactly as terrifying as they say.”

And somewhere in the back of the room, Addison’s eyes flick toward the office wing where Meredith’s door sits, just a brief glance, almost imperceptible. A hint of history, tension, and unspoken curiosity.

For now, though, she’s the queen of the OR. And she loves it.

Meredith’s office is sweltering, the tiny air conditioner doing little more than pushing hot air around. She’s pacing like a caged animal, phone pressed to her ear, tapping her foot against the floor in frustration.

“Cristina. I’m… I’m not ready,” she starts, voice sharp but shaky. “I’m not ready at all. Addison is coming back, Cristina. She’s… she’s Addison!”

Cristina’s calm, unbothered tone cuts through her panic like a scalpel. “Mer… it’s Addison Montgomery. Not a bomb. You haven’t even seen her yet. You’re freaking out over a redhead ghost.”

“Redhead ghost?!” Meredith throws her hands up. “Cristina, she’s brilliant. Terrifying. Gorgeous. Commanding. And I—” She stops herself, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t even deal with how she’s going to see me.”

Cristina snorts. “Uh-huh. Right. Meredith Grey, surviving a plane crash, pandemics, and multiple near-death experiences, is now undone by… Addison Montgomery?”

Meredith groans. “It’s not just that!” She spins toward the window, gripping the sill. “The last time I saw her… was when Callie had the baby. That’s years ago. And now—” She swallows, pacing again. “Amelia told me to just be friendly, professional. But what if it’s weird?”

Cristina’s voice drops to a teasing lilt. “Weird, huh? Meredith Grey. Sounds like you have a little… crush.”

Meredith freezes mid-step. “What? No!” Her cheeks heat up despite the fan. “Cristina, it’s not a crush. It’s… history. And respect. And—fine, maybe a little curiosity—but not a crush!”

Cristina hums knowingly. “Uh-huh. History. Respect. Curiosity. Got it. So, basically a crush.”

Meredith groans again and throws herself into the chair, hugging the phone. “I knew this would be awkward. I just… I talked to Amelia this morning, okay? She reminded me that we’re supposed to be grown-ups about this. Friendly. Professional. But now I keep thinking about all the old… whatever it was between us. And now she’s back, and it’s going to be weird. So weird.”

Cristina sighs, amused. “Mer, you’re overthinking this. You always do. Addison’s just a human. You survived Derek, you survived life, you’ll survive Addison.”

Meredith groans. “I’m not sure human Addison is going to be enough to survive. I mean, she’s Addison Montgomery. The one who can walk into a room and make it feel like the sun just showed up.”

Cristina laughs, sharp and delighted. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re totally screwed.”

Meredith presses her face into the chair cushion. “Thanks for the encouragement, Cristina.”

“Just doing my job. And if you need it, I can come by with coffee or throw something at her. Team Grey has your back.”

Meredith can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “Fine. But only if it’s coffee first.”

She sits there a moment longer, taking a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. Somewhere down the hall, the faint click of heels echoes — precise, commanding, unmistakable — and Meredith’s stomach tightens.

Not yet, she tells herself. Not yet. I can do this. Maybe.

 

The OR smells like antiseptic and metal, the kind of smell that makes Addison’s nerves tingle with anticipation. Her gloves snap into place. She adjusts her mask and leans over the patient, Tova, perfectly prepped and calm under anesthesia.

Levi fumbles with the instruments, eyes wide as saucers. Jo is calm, organized, a reassuring presence at her side, but Addison can sense the tension radiating off both of them.

Okay, Addison, she thinks. You got this. Just don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up.

The patient’s vitals are steady. Her heartbeat echoes softly in the monitors. Addison takes a breath, scanning the OR with precise, clinical focus. She doesn’t need nerves, doesn’t need hesitation , she just needs control.

Focus. Don’t think about Meredith. Don’t think about the hallway. Don’t think about that ridiculous moment with the interns. You are Addison Montgomery. You can do this.

Levi hands her the scalpel with trembling hands. She gives him a pointed look.

“Steady,” she mutters. “You’re not chopping onions here, Schmitt. Focus.”

He nods, mortified, gripping the scalpel like it’s a live grenade.

Jo passes her the retractors with a soft, steady smile. Addison shoots her a quick nod. Good. At least someone’s not panicking.

The incision is clean, precise. The familiar rhythm of the OR takes over the hum of the suction, the soft beeping of monitors, the whisper of gloves against skin. Addison moves with practiced grace, every motion controlled, deliberate.

You cannot screw this up. You. Cannot. Screw. This. Up.

She glances at Levi, who fumbles again, and mutters under her breath:
“Jesus Christ, Schmitt, focus.”

Jo chuckles quietly at her side.

Addison ignores her. Eyes on the patient, hands steady.
Meredith doesn’t need to see me fail. Not now. Not ever.

A tricky spot comes, a vessel that’s thinner than it looks under the glare of the OR lights. Addison’s brow furrows. Her heart hammers, but her hands are calm. Precise. Controlled.

Okay. One clean cut. Don’t panic. Don’t screw this up. Breathe.

The vessel is delicate. She threads the suture with care. Levi watches, wide-eyed, and she nearly laughs. God, I hope Meredith never has to watch me babysit an intern like this. She’d hate it.

“Clamp, please,” she orders, voice low but firm. Jo hands it over, steady. Addison works through the tricky anatomy, cursing softly under her breath whenever her brain goes faster than her hands.

Fucking hell. Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Not now, not here. Focus. Hands steady. Eyes sharp. Brain clear.

The rhythm of the surgery takes her over, every pulse, every cut, every stitch familiar. The panic fades. Control returns. She’s Addison Montgomery, brilliant, precise, unstoppable.

The first stage of the surgery is over. She leans back slightly, glances at Levi and Jo. “Good. So far, you’re alive. That’s a win.”

Levi exhales dramatically. “Alive. Got it.”

Jo smirks. “She’s terrifying.”

Addison smirks back, though inwardly her chest is still tight. One stage done. Don’t fuck up the next. Not today. Not ever.

She adjusts her gloves again, leaning in over Tova, ready for the next step, every muscle tense with control, every thought sharp: This is my OR. I own this. I do not fail.

The rhythm of the OR has been steady, precise, like a heartbeat under control. Until it isn’t.

The lights hum. The monitors beep. And then the temperature rises slowly at first, then fast, oppressive.

Addison wipes her forehead under the mask. “Shit,” she mutters.

Levi fumbles, wide-eyed. “Uh… the AC… it’s—”

Before he can finish, the door opens and Richard Webber steps in, face tense. “Addison. AC’s out. We have to close.”

Addison straightens, eyes blazing with focus. “No. Absolutely not.”

Richard raises his hands. “Addison we cannot continue like this. It’s dangerous.”

She shakes her head, voice sharp but steady, cutting through the heat like a scalpel. “Dangerous? I can handle a bit of heat. The patient is too important to stop now. I will not close.”

Levi stutters. “B-but… Dr Mont”

“I don’t care,” she snaps. She turns to the nurses, voice rising with authority. “Find me a set of hands as experienced in microvascular anastomosis of the abdomen .”

The OR goes quiet, except for the hum of the failing AC and the soft beep of Tova’s monitors.

Then she looks up. Slowly. Calmly. Eyes scanning the room, settling on the gallery where she knows Meredith might be.

“Get me Meredith Grey,” Addison says, voice low, commanding, impossible to ignore.

Levi and Jo exchange glances.

Addison doesn’t break eye contact with the door she expects her former colleague to enter through. “Now,” she repeats.

Richard exhales, a mixture of disbelief and admiration. “You really don’t mess around, do you?”

“I don’t,” Addison says simply, returning to her patient. “We finish this. Perfectly. Or not at all.”

The OR is tense. Sweat drips down foreheads. The heat is stifling. Every pair of eyes in the room knows that Addison Montgomery doesn’t compromise on excellence, and right now, that means Meredith Grey is the only person who can keep this surgery alive and perfect.

Meredith’s phone buzzes on the counter while she’s grading charts, and she nearly drops it when she sees the text:

“911. Need you in OR now. –Addison.”

Her chest tightens, stomach flipping. Oh. Fuck.

She stares at the message, frozen, mind racing. She hasn’t even seen Addison yet — and now she’s being summoned, urgently, into her OR.

Why now? Why me? Calm down. You’re fine. You can do this.

Her thoughts spiral anyway. I haven’t seen her in years. She’s brilliant. She’s terrifying. She’s… Addison. And now I’m supposed to walk into her OR and act… professional? Right. Professional. Friendly. Don’t fuck it up.

She grabs her scrubs like her life depends on it which, in a way, it does. She yanks them on, grabs her mask, and practically sprints through the hospital corridors, every step echoing like a drum in her chest.

By the time she reaches the OR, the heat from the AC failure already presses down, and Addison is standing over Tova, calm, precise, hands steady despite the chaos. Levi and Jo are tense, but Addison’s presence dominates the room.

Addison looks up as Meredith bursts in. For a moment, they just look at each other.

“Meredith,” Addison says, and her voice is low, warm, familiar and professional, but carrying all the weight of their history.

“Addison,” Meredith breathes, trying to steady her voice while rushing to scrub in. “Hi… hi.”

Addison smirks just a little, letting the warmth of recognition settle between them. “Good to see you,” she says simply, eyes softening for the briefest moment. “You’re here.”

Meredith nods, fumbling with her gloves. “Yeah… I’m here. I—uh…” She stops, catches herself, takes a breath, and meets Addison’s gaze. “Let’s… do this. Let’s save Tova.”

“Exactly,” Addison says, her tone smooth, confident. “We do this together. Just like old times, but… better.”

There’s a beat of silence as their hands move over the instruments, side by side, professional, synchronized, yet charged with unspoken history.

Meredith can feel the warmth of Addison’s presence commanding, reassuring, familiar and for the first time in years, it doesn’t terrify her. Not completely.

“Ready?” Addison asks, eyes on Meredith.

Meredith smiles, just a little. “Always.”

They exchange a small, warm nod with no words needed beyond that before turning their full focus to Tova.

For the first time that day, Meredith feels steady. Focused. And even, in some quiet corner of her chest, a little… glad.

The OR is thick with heat and tension, but Addison and Meredith move in a practiced rhythm, synchronized like the patient depends on it because she does. Levi and Jo hover carefully, trying to keep up.

Addison wipes her forehead beneath her mask and glances at Meredith. “You know,” she says, voice low but amused, “I still can’t believe we both ended up nominated for the Catherine Fox Award thisyear. You did take it, didn’t you?”

Meredith’s hands pause briefly. “Yeah. I… did. I didn’t think you’d actually care.”

Addison smirks under her mask. “Of course I care. I care about excellence and I care about you.”

Meredith blushes slightly, trying to focus on the delicate suturing. “Excellence. Right. You always did.”

A beat passes as they move together over the patient. Then Meredith ventures carefully, “You know, sometimes I wonder if the ‘best steps’ for us… are the ones we’re too stubborn to take.”

Addison’s eyes flick up to hers. “Too stubborn to take… or too afraid?”

Meredith shrugs, small smile hidden behind her mask. “Maybe both. I mean… the career ones, the life ones. Sometimes they overlap, sometimes they don’t.”

Addison nods, adjusting a clamp. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that too. About what really matters. You follow the path you’re good at, or the path that… makes you feel alive?”

Meredith’s hands move carefully, threading a delicate suture, thinking about the years since Callie’s baby, the choices she’s made, the losses, the gains. “I guess… you follow both, when you can. And hope you don’t screw up either.”

Addison chuckles softly. “Hope and skill. That’s basically surgery and life in a nutshell.”

Meredith laughs quietly. “Exactly. Except… sometimes hope is scarier than the knife.”

Addison leans slightly closer, voice low, almost conspiratorial. “Well, maybe that’s why it’s better to do it with someone you trust.”

Meredith glances at her, caught by the warmth in Addison’s eyes. “Yeah… trust,” she says, almost a whisper, as they both turn back to Tova.

For a moment, the OR is calm except for the hum of instruments, the monitors, and the quiet rhythm of two people finding a familiar connection again, professional, friendly, and quietly charged with all the history between them.

Addison thinks to herself, I trust her. I always did. Maybe I’ve just been waiting for her to remember it too.

Meredith thinks, It’s weird. It feels… good. And scary. But good.

And for now, that’s enough.

The rhythm of the surgery is steady, almost meditative, until the monitor suddenly beeps sharply. Addison’s eyes snap up.

“Clot,” she mutters under her breath, heart tightening.

Meredith freezes for a split second before her hands move automatically. “Where?”

“Superior mesenteric artery. Small, but fast,” Addison replies, voice calm but tense. “We catch it now, we’re fine. Miss it, it’s bad.”

Levi hovers nervously, unsure where to help. Jo steadies herself beside them, her hands ready.

Addison threads the suture carefully, microvascular precision guiding her fingers. “Clamp, now,” she orders. Meredith slides it into place, steady and sure.

They work together in silence, hands moving in perfect coordination, eyes locked on the delicate vessels. The OR feels impossibly hot, but the focus is absolute.

Come on… come on… Addison mutters under her breath, cursing softly. Not today, not now, not in front of her.

The clot resolves. Blood flow returns to normal. Addison exhales sharply, tension draining out in a slow, shaky breath. Meredith mirrors her relief, but neither lets their guard fully down.

“Good,” Addison says finally, wiping sweat from her brow. “Perfect. That’s what I like to see.”

Meredith allows herself a small smile under the mask. “Not bad, Montgomery.”

Addison smirks. “Not bad, Grey. You didn’t ruin it.”

Levi whispers, wide-eyed: “That… was intense.”

Jo grins. “You got that right.”

Addison leans back slightly, finally relaxed enough to look around the OR. “We’re done. Clean up. Let’s move.”

Moments later, the team scrubs out and steps into the hallway. The cool air of the hospital greets them like a reward. Addison and Meredith walk side by side, their conversation low, easy.

“You okay?” Addison asks quietly.

Meredith nods. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” Addison says, with that signature half-smile that can cut or charm in equal measure. “We did good work today.”

Meredith glances at her. “We did.”

The hallway outside the OR buzzes with low chatter. Levi, Jo, and a few of the other residents huddle together, whispering like they’re sharing state secrets.

Xander leans in, voice low but not low enough. “Did you see them in the OR? I swear… they had it out. There was definitely tension.”

Jo nods, trying to look casual but failing. “Yeah. I mean… the way Addison looked at Meredith… and Meredith… Meredith looked like she was about to… I don’t know, swoon or explode or something.”

Another resident pipes up, barely containing excitement. “And when that clot happened? Addison was so intense, but Meredith just… knew what to do. It was… something.”

Levi whispers, eyes wide. “I think they’re… I don’t know. Feels like there’s history. Like… unresolved history.”

Meredith and Addison, exiting the OR after scrubbing out, walk right past the gossiping. Meredith stops mid-step, arching an eyebrow, voice sharp but playful.

“We can hear you,” she says, deadpan.

The interns freeze, eyes widening. Levi stammers. “Uh… we uh… didn’t mean—”

Jo covers his mouth to hide a laugh. “Totally didn’t mean to”

Meredith tilts her head, smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. Keep that up, and maybe you’ll get to assist the next time Addison calls me in for a uterine miracle.”

Levi gulps. “Yes… ma’am.”

Addison, walking beside Meredith, chuckles softly. “Don’t scare them too much,” she says, just low enough for only Meredith to hear.

Meredith rolls her eyes, shaking her head, but can’t hide her smile. “Says the so called ruler of all that is evil.”

The interns watch the two women pass, whispering again, now even more breathless than before. The OR may be over, but the tension is quiet, charged, unspoken and lingers in every hallway conversation.

They reach the elevators. The doors slide open, and for a beat, neither of them moves. It’s just them, side by side, the air thick with heat, adrenaline, and unspoken history.

Addison tilts her head slightly. “Same time tomorrow?”

Meredith laughs softly, more relaxed than she expected. “Yeah. Same time.”

They step into the elevator together, the doors closing on a quiet, shared sense of victory mixed with professional, warm, and just enough intimacy to make the slow burn feel inevitable.

 

⸻

The elevator doors slide shut, and for the first few seconds, neither Meredith nor Addison speaks.

Then, suddenly, Addison lets out a quiet laugh — low, shaky — and Meredith joins in before long. It’s genuine, relieved, and unguarded, and soon the two of them are double over laughing, the kind of laughter that makes the tight muscles in their shoulders release in waves.

Addison’s hand brushes against Meredith’s, and without thinking, she grabs it, gripping tightly for stability. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, but the laugh dies in her throat as the weight of her emotions hits.

Her knees weaken slightly, and she turns away, leaning against the elevator wall, trying to hide her face.

Meredith’s smile fades instantly, replaced by concern. She reaches for the emergency stop button and presses it, jolting the elevator into stillness.

Addison begins to cry quietly, shoulders trembling. Her voice is barely above a whisper at first.

“I thought coming back here… to Seattle… to Grey Sloan… that, uh… he’d be here,” she chokes out. “That I would be able to feel that he was still here in the city he loved, with the people he loved… but he isn’t. And it’s real. He’s not here. And I’m really sorry I’m doing this in front of you because you’re the one who actually had to go through it.”

Meredith steps closer, voice tender, catching tears in her own eyes. “Addison… he is here. He’s in his children. And they are very real. And I would love for you to come and meet them.”

Addison turns slightly, eyes still glistening with tears. “Meredith…” she begins, voice thick with emotion, “…you’ve never been one to shy away from what you love. So if you believe in this next big thing… fight for it. Richard will understand.”

Her breath comes in ragged gasps, tears still streaking her face. She leans heavily on the wall, shoulders shaking. Meredith reaches out, gently lifting her chin, catching her gaze.

“Addison,” Meredith says, voice tender, cracking slightly, “you don’t have to hold it in here. You’re allowed to feel. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Addison takes a shuddering breath, letting herself be supported. Slowly, her tears start to subside, but her hands remain in Meredith’s, fingers entwined, holding on as if letting go would make the grief spill all over again.

Finally, she straightens slightly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. She hits the button to restart the elevator, voice small but steadier.

Meredith steps forward and wraps her in a long, protective hug, arms tight around Addison’s trembling frame. Addison leans into her fully, forehead resting against Meredith’s , allowing herself to feel, to grieve, to be comforted to be human again.

The elevator hums softly around them, the weight of their shared history, grief, and unspoken connection settling into something quiet and sacred. Addison breathes into Meredith’s shoulder, whispering, “Thank you… for letting me lean.”

Meredith chuckles softly, tears glistening in her eyes. “Always. Always.”

And for a long, suspended moment, they simply hold each other two women who have weathered loss, distance, and time finding solace in the one person who understands the depth of what they’ve both survived.

Meredith leans against her office door, phone pressed to her ear as Addison slips past to find Amelia. “You know,” Meredith begins, voice trembling despite her best attempt at calm, “I—uh—I invited her over for dinner. Like… tonight.”

Cristina’s laugh is sharp and teasing. “Oh, of course you did. That’s totally normal. Meredith Grey inviting Addison Montgomery into her house… no big deal.”

Meredith groans, running a hand through her hair. “Cristina, it’s not normal. It’s—ugh—it’s terrifying. I mean, what if she talks about the elevator? What if she knows what I felt when she was crying? Something’s… something isn’t right with her, maybe it’s because we’re older?Now I’m supposed to cook. Cook, Cristina.”

Cristina hums knowingly. “Ah, yes. Panic cooking. Classic. So… what’s your plan? Burn the pasta? Set off the smoke alarm? Also what are you talking about with the elevator?”

Meredith laughs despite herself. “I—no! I mean, I’m going to try to make it perfect. But she’s Addison Montgomery. She’s Addison Montgomery. And I—ugh! I’ll tell you elevator stuff later” She groans, running out of her office toward the door.

She grabs her keys and purse, tossing her scrubs into a laundry bag. “I’m going to the grocery store. I need… vegetables. Maybe chicken. Maybe… just wine. I think she likes red wine. I need tequila but I am actively trying to prove I am a grown up so maybe wine will have to do.”

Cristina sighs, clearly enjoying herself. “Relax, Mer. You’ll survive. Maybe don’t set the house on fire.”

“Cristina, I have to! I have to make this perfect!” Meredith huffs as she pulls out of the parking lot.

By the time she’s back at home from picking up the kids , Meredith is already panicked and multitasking. She’s juggling a grocery bag in one hand and her phone in the other, talking to Cristina.

“Zola, Bailey, Ellis! Shoes! Snacks! Wash your hands!” she calls, hustling her kids into the kitchen.

Cristina laughs on the phone. “Oh, I see how it is. Full-on domestic terror mode. Classic Meredith.”

“I—Cristina, you don’t understand,” Meredith says, trying to corral her kids while unpacking groceries. “Addison’s coming over. And I can’t have my house looking… messy. And I have to cook. And I have to—ugh!”

By the time the kids are fed, backpacks stored, and homework halfway done, Meredith has embarked on a stress cleaning spree: wiping counters, fluffing pillows, organizing the living room, checking the bathroom three times, and making sure there’s not a single misplaced sock in sight.

Okay, Meredith, calm down, she mutters to herself, spraying disinfectant on the countertop. She’s Addison. She’s not a judge. She’s… okay. She’s… amazing. But she’s coming over. You can do this.

The house sparkles under the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Meredith steps back, wiping sweat from her brow. She’s exhausted, panicked, and oddly exhilarated all at once.

Then she checks her phone again. Addison has texted Amelia, presumably making plans. Meredith swallows hard, taking a deep breath. Tonight, her carefully cleaned, stress-perfect house will host Addison Montgomery.

And Meredith… she doesn’t know if she’s ready for that.

Meredith is juggling a sink full of dishes when she hears a familiar ringtone blaring from… nowhere.

“Ellis! What are you doing?!” Meredith spins around just in time to see her 7 year old holding her phone, proudly pressing buttons.

Before she can stop it, Ellis has somehow called Amelia on video call.

“Meredith?” Amelia’s voice comes cheerfully through the speaker. “Are you—?”

“ELLIS!” Meredith shouts, eyes wide, lunging for the phone. Ellis squeals in delight, holding it up like a trophy.

“Ice… cream! Aunty Amy ” Ellis shouts into the phone, giggling uncontrollably.

Amelia laughs, glancing at Addison in the passenger seat. “Addison… you’re not going to believe this. Meredith’s little one just called me… on video. And apparently wants ice cream right now.”

Addison raises an eyebrow, lips twitching in amusement. “On video? That’s… kind of adorable.”

Meredith finally wrestles the phone away from Ellis, holding it tightly. “Ellis! No! Don’t—ugh!” She turns back to Amelia, still on call. “I’m… I’m sorry. I—uh… I’m stressed, okay? Addison’s coming over and I don’t even know how to—”

Her words stop mid-sentence as she glances up and realizes Addison is still in the car, hearing everything.

Addison’s amused, slightly raised eyebrow meets Meredith’s panicked gaze. Meredith freezes, cheeks flushing red. “I—uh… what I meant is… I’m fine. Totally fine. Perfectly fine. Ignore everything you just—”

Amelia snickers from the car. “Meredith, you just stressed me out on speakerphone. And Ellis is adorable.”

Ellis claps her hands and giggles, oblivious to the chaos she caused.

Addison smirks, voice calm but teasing. “I hear everything, Grey. You’re very… stressed about me.”

Meredith groans, gripping the phone tighter, wishing the ground would swallow her whole. “Maybe a little,” she mutters under her breath, while Ellis squeals with delight and Amelia laughs uncontrollably.

Addison tilts her head, still smiling, clearly entertained. Meredith mutters again, flustered: “Fine! I’m stressed! Happy now?”

Addison chuckles, leaning back in her seat. “Perfectly clear. But somehow… I like it.”

Ellis squeals again, and Meredith buries her face in her hands, muttering, “This is going to be a very long dinner…”

The smell of roasted vegetables and lemon chicken fills Meredith’s kitchen. The place is spotless , unnervingly spotless which, for Meredith Grey, can only mean one thing, she’s panicking. She’s just finishing setting the table when the door opens.

From the hallway, she hears Amelia’s bright voice “We’re here! Come meet somebody, guys!”

Meredith wipes her hands on a towel, heart thudding. Okay. Breathe. It’s fine. Totally fine.

Addison steps into view behind Amelia, her usual polished confidence softened by something almost… nervous. She hesitates in the doorway, offering a small but genuine smile. “Hi.”

Meredith’s heart does a strange, traitorous flip.

“Hey,” she says, managing to sound casual almost. She shifts Ellis higher on her hip. “So this is Zola, Bailey, and Ellis. I’m holding her because little miss had a meltdown about five minutes ago over not getting her ice cream.”

Zola and Bailey appear from the living room, both curious and polite.

“Hi,” they chime in almost in unison, shy but curious.

“Hi,” Addison says warmly, crouching slightly, her voice bright and soft all at once. She glances up briefly at Meredith something unreadable flickers between them then back to the kids.

Bailey studies her for a long moment before tilting his head. “Were you Daddy’s friend?”

The air stills. Meredith freezes mid-step. Amelia looks down at her shoes.

Addison’s expression falters, but she quickly steadies it, crouching so she’s eye-level with Bailey. “I was, yes,” she says softly, smiling through the slight quiver in her voice. “I’m Addison but he…He called me Addie.”

There’s a brief, tender silence. Meredith watches, throat tightening. Addison’s eyes shine with emotion nostalgia, loss, and something gentler.

Then Ellis, still clutching her toy spoon, toddles forward with the fearless sincerity only a child can manage. “Want some ice cream, Addie?” she asks, her voice high and sweet.

Addison’s lips part, surprise and warmth flooding her expression. She nods quickly, blinking away the emotion that threatens to spill. “I would… I would love that, thank you.”

Ellis beams, taking Addison’s hand and leading her over to the dining table like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh wow, look at this!” Addison says as Ellis proudly presents the bowl of ice cream in front of her. “Is this rainbow sherbet?”

Zola grins, hopping onto a chair. “Yup! And everything’s rainbow even the sprinkles!”

Addison laughs softly, genuinely the kind of laugh that starts in the chest and lifts the whole room with it.

Amelia shoots Meredith a knowing smile, quietly mouthing “told you this would be good.” Meredith rolls her eyes but can’t stop smiling as she sets Ellis in her booster seat and brings over plates.

A few minutes later, they’re all seated, Amelia across from the kids, Addison beside Meredith at the long farmhouse table. The conversation flows easily, the kids animatedly talking about school and Ellis’s “very big feelings about dessert.” Addison listens intently, laughing at all the right moments, her nervousness melting away with each story. She sort of wishes Henry was there, he would love this.

At one point, Addison turns toward Meredith, their elbows brushing lightly. Meredith glances sideways, and for a fleeting second, their eyes meet soft, familiar, grounding.

Addison smiles. “Well done, Meredith.”

Meredith looks down for a second, then back up, her voice quiet and hesitant . “Yeah?,” she says softly. “Thank you.”

The kids’ chatter fills the air again, and Meredith and Addison just sit there side by side sharing a quiet, unspoken peace neither of them expected to find tonight.

 

The dinner plates are half-cleared, the kids’ laughter fading into soft hums from the living room. Amelia has just finished a story that made Zola giggle so hard she snorted juice through her nose, and now she’s carrying Ellis upstairs, promising “one story and then bed.”

Addison helps gather the dishes, stacking them neatly in the sink. She looks perfectly put together, as always but there’s a faint weariness in her movements. Meredith notices it in the way her shoulders slump ever so slightly, in the distant way she stares at the soapy water before washing the first plate.

Meredith leans against the counter, towel in hand, studying her quietly for a moment. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” she says softly.

Addison glances up, smirking faintly. “You cooked. I can wash. It’s called balance, Grey.”

Meredith chuckles, taking a sip of wine before setting the glass down. “You seem… okay,” she says after a pause. “Better than earlier, I mean.…”

Addison’s hands still in the water for a moment. The sound of running water fills the silence between them. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her voice low. “About that… sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. I just… hadn’t expected it to hit me the way it did.”

Meredith shakes her head quickly. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to fall apart. We all do.”

Addison gives a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Not like that. Not in an elevator in front of you. I’m supposed to be the composed one, remember? The redhead who glides in with confidence and leaves chaos in her wake.”

“You did leave chaos,” Meredith teases gently, “but you also helped fix a patient when the A/C was down and half the hospital was melting.”

Addison smiles faintly, eyes warm with gratitude. “You’ve gotten good at that, you know.”

“What, sarcasm?” Meredith asks with a smirk.

Addison shakes her head, turning to face her fully. “Comforting people. You always had it in you, but now… it feels different. You’ve softened.”

Meredith blinks, surprised by the honesty. She shrugs, trying to keep her tone light. “Maybe nearly dying from COVID does that to a person.”

Addison’s expression immediately shifts her hands stop moving, her brow creases. “I heard,” she says softly. “I wanted to call. I didn’t know if I should. You were… you were really bad, I didn’t know how to approach without breaking”

Meredith leans against the counter beside her, voice steady but quiet. “Yeah. I was. I don’t remember most of it, honestly. Just flashes. The beach.”

Addison nods slowly, the mention of the beach hanging heavy between them, both knowing exactly what that meant.

Meredith’s eyes flick toward her, a faint, knowing smile ghosting across her face.

 

Addison exhales, her shoulders loosening slightly. “You look good, though. Strong. Like you came out the other side of something impossible.”

Meredith tilts her head. “You sound like you’re still walking through something impossible.”

Addison smiles sadly, drying her hands with a towel. “Yeah, maybe. I think I just… didn’t realize how much Seattle still held for me. It’s like every hallway, every elevator… every laugh reminds me of something i lost after leaving, something i could have had.”

Meredith’s tone softens. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know. Stay here while you’re in town. The house has space. The kids would love it. Ellis already calls you Addie, which pretty much means you’re family now.”

Addison looks genuinely taken aback. “Meredith, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Meredith says, cutting her off gently but firmly. “Hotels are lonely. This house… isn’t. And you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Addison stares at her for a long moment, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes. “You sure?”

Meredith nods, a soft smile pulling at her lips. “I’m sure.”

Addison exhales a small, shaky laugh. “You’ve changed, Grey.”

Meredith shrugs, picking up a dish towel and bumping her shoulder lightly against Addison’s. “Maybe. Or maybe I just learned how to let people stay.”

They share a quiet smile, one that carries a thousand unspoken words.

From the hallway, Amelia’s voice drifts down “If either of you cleans another dish, I swear you’re both control freaks.”

Meredith rolls her eyes; Addison laughs. The tension breaks, but the warmth lingers — a quiet comfort settling between them like something fragile but healing.

By the time Amelia’s pager starts buzzing, the dishes are stacked, the kids are asleep, and the house has fallen into that peaceful hum that only happens late at night.

Amelia groans, checking her phone. “Damn it, that’s the on-call team. Someone just crashed post-op.”

Meredith sighs. “You sure you don’t want to pretend you didn’t see that?”

Amelia smirks, grabbing her jacket. “Tempting, but no. Some of us still have to save lives tonight.” She points at Meredith and Addison as she backs toward the door. “You two behave. No hospital talk. No late-night surgeries. And for God’s sake, Meredith, try to relax.”

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving an unexpected silence.

Meredith turns to Addison. “Well… I guess it’s just us now.”

Addison smiles lightly, a little uncertain but sincere. “Looks that way.”

A few minutes later, they’ve both changed, Meredith in an old Dartmouth T-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, Addison in soft grey satin that looks too elegant for a casual night in but somehow still comfortable on her. They meet in the living room, the glow from the lamp warm and gentle, the distant hum of the dishwasher filling the silence.

Meredith pours two glasses of wine and hands one over, but Addison hesitates. She smiles politely, shaking her head. “Oh no, thank you.”

Meredith blinks, surprised, but doesn’t press. “Water okay?”

“Perfect.”

They settle on the couch, legs tucked under them, an old movie playing low on the TV, something neither of them are really watching.

For a while, they just sit in companionable silence. The kind of silence that feels earned not awkward, just full of unspoken things.

Meredith sips her wine, studying Addison out of the corner of her eye. She looks softer like this hair down, barefoot, the edge of her confidence replaced by something human, vulnerable. But her hands are restless, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

After a few minutes, Meredith breaks the quiet. “You didn’t mention how long you’re in Seattle for.”

Addison sighs, leaning back against the couch. “A couple of days, maybe. Depends on the patient . I may need to be back and forth a lot .”

Meredith nods, watching her. “That sounds exhausting.”

Addison laughs softly. “It is. But it’s worth it. My son’s at school in L.A. so when I’m not working, I’m basically a full-time chauffeur, chef, therapist, and stand-in best friend.”

Meredith smiles. “Sounds familiar.”

“Yeah,” Addison says, eyes softening. “Henry’s ten now. He’s… God, he’s everything. Brilliant, sarcastic, dramatic , definitely his mother’s child. He tells me my job is gross, that I should’ve picked something cool, like being an astronaut.”

Meredith laughs quietly, her voice warm. “He sounds perfect.”

“He is,” Addison says, a fond, wistful smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t think I’d be the kind of person who could… love someone that much. But he made me softer, better. I used to think the work was the thing that would define me. Turns out it’s him.”

Meredith leans back, her tone gentle. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Addison glances at her, something flickering behind her eyes, gratitude, affection, maybe even relief. “Thanks. You know, you used to terrify me,” she admits with a teasing grin.

Meredith raises an eyebrow. “I did not.”

“Oh, please,” Addison says, chuckling. “You were this… storm. All sharp intellect and impossible standards. Derek was just the middleman.”

Meredith smirks. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever called him that.”

They both laugh real laughter this time. It’s warm and easy, and when it fades, they fall into a comfortable quiet again.

On the coffee table, the movie drones on, forgotten. Meredith leans against the arm of the couch, swirling what’s left of her wine. “You can stay as long as you need, you know. The guest room’s yours. I meant it.”

Addison hesitates, looking at her really looking. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” Meredith says softly, smiling over the rim of her glass. “It’s nice having you here.”

Addison nods, her voice low. “It’s nice being here.”

The moment lingers, quiet, still, threaded with something deeper than nostalgia.

Outside, the cicadas hum through the heat of the night. Inside, the two women sit shoulder to shoulder, the glow of the television soft on their faces, two old friends, finally finding peace in each other’s company.

Chapter Text

The morning light filters softly through the blinds, pale gold streaks cutting across the kitchen. The house is still, the kind of quiet that only happens when kids are still asleep and the world hasn’t fully woken up yet.

Addison stands barefoot at the counter, hair loose around her shoulders, wearing one of Meredith’s borrowed sweatshirts but it’s a little too big, sleeves rolled past her wrists. She’s making coffee, carefully, as though afraid to disturb the peace.

The sound of soft footsteps makes her glance over.

Zola pads into the kitchen, wearing her pajamas, hair wild from sleep. “You’re up early,” Addison says gently.

Zola yawns, rubbing her eyes. “You’re up earlier.”

Addison smiles. “Touché.”

Zola hops onto one of the stools at the island, watching Addison curiously as she pours coffee into a mug. “Mom doesn’t usually let people use her coffee machine.”

“Oh?” Addison teases. “Should I be worried?”

Zola grins. “Only if you break it.”

Addison laughs, nodding. “Good to know.”

There’s a brief silence which is comfortable but charged with a kind of unspoken curiosity. Zola rests her chin on her hands, studying Addison.

“You used to work with my mom, right?”

Addison nods. “I did. A long time ago.”

“And you knew my dad.”

Her tone is matter-of-fact, but there’s a quiet depth to the way she says it like she’s testing Addison, seeing what kind of person she is.

Addison sets her mug down and leans on the counter, matching Zola’s honesty. “Yeah. I knew him really well.”

Zola tilts her head. “Did you like him?”

Addison smiles softly, memories flickering behind her eyes. “I did. He was… complicated. But he was good. And he took care your mom, and that’s all I had to make sure of.” Addison says not quite aware of how vulnerable she had just been.

Zola nods slowly, thinking it over. Then, with the kind of blunt innocence only kids can pull off, she asks, “Do you like my mom?”

Addison freezes for half a second, caught completely off guard. She tries to play it cool, but the warmth in her cheeks betrays her.

“I…yeah,” Addison says softly, recovering with a smile. “Yeah, I like your mom a lot.”

Zola squints at her, almost smug. “Like ‘like’ her?”

Addison blinks. “Wow. You don’t hold back, do you?”

Zola shrugs, grinning. “I just want to know.”

Addison exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Your mom’s… amazing. She’s strong, and brilliant, and she doesn’t give herself enough credit. I’ve always admired that about her.”

Zola nods knowingly. “She likes you too.”

Addison glances up, surprised. “Oh, she does?”

“Yeah. She made us clean the whole house before you came over. Even the hallway closet.”

Addison laughs, covering her mouth. “She didn’t.”

“She did,” Zola says proudly. “And she let us have rainbow ice cream before dinner. She doesn’t even like rainbow ice cream.”

Addison looks down at her mug, smiling to herself. “That’s… good to know.”

Just then, Meredith’s voice floats in from the hallway, still rough with sleep. “Zola, are you interrogating our guest before breakfast?”

Zola giggles. “Just talking.”

Meredith steps into the kitchen, hair tousled, still in pajamas. She smiles when she sees Addison and for a moment, the air feels different again. Softer. Lighter.

Addison lifts her coffee mug in greeting. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Meredith says, leaning against the doorway. “Did Zola behave?”

“She’s a fantastic conversationalist,” Addison replies, eyes glinting. “A little too good, actually.”

Zola grins mischievously. “I just asked if you liked Mom.”

Meredith’s eyes widen slightly as Addison chokes on her coffee, trying to recover. “Zola!”

“What?” Zola says innocently. “She said yes.”

Addison sets her mug down, laughing. “Okay, that’s my cue to make breakfast before this gets worse.”

Meredith shakes her head, trying not to smile. “You’re incorrigible,” she mutters to Zola.

As Addison moves toward the stove, Meredith watches her for a beat longer than necessary the easy confidence in the way she moves, the way the sweatshirt hangs off her shoulders like it’s always belonged there.

And for the first time in a long time, the house feels… full.

The morning had started out ordinary enough or at least, that’s what Meredith kept telling herself.

She and Addison moved around each other in the kitchen like two planets in careful orbit, never colliding, but always pulled in by some invisible force neither of them wanted to name.

Addison reached up to grab a mixing bowl from the top shelf just as Meredith turned with a carton of eggs. Their shoulders brushed.

“Sorry,” Meredith murmured, stepping back.

Addison smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re fine.”

But the kitchen wasn’t small, and somehow they kept finding themselves in the same space.

Meredith reached past Addison for the whisk her hand accidentally brushing Addison’s wrist. Warm skin against warm skin. A jolt, brief and real.

Addison exhaled quietly, pretending not to notice. “You still whisk like a surgeon.”

Meredith raised an eyebrow. “Efficient?”

“Terrifying,” Addison teased, lips curving into a grin.

Zola and Bailey were at the table, watching them like it was a sitcom.

“Are you two gonna keep bumping into each other all day?” Zola asked innocently, spooning cereal.

Meredith gave her a warning look, cheeks pink. “Eat your breakfast, Zola.”

Addison hid a smile behind the pancake spatula. “It’s teamwork,” she said lightly. “We’re… recalibrating.”

Meredith shot her a look. “You make it sound like an experimental procedure.”

Addison grinned. “It might be.”

By the time the pancakes were done, they’d managed to bump into each other at least five more times, at the fridge, at the sink, at the counter. Each touch was small but charged; each apology softer than the last.

When breakfast ended, they packed lunches, wrangled shoes and backpacks, and herded the kids into the car like a well rehearsed team.

Addison took the passenger seat with sunglasses on, hair still damp from her shower and Meredith tried very hard not to think about how easily Addison fit into the rhythm of her morning.

At drop-off, the chaos of the school parking lot swallowed them kids shouting, parents waving, the faint smell of sunscreen and asphalt.

“Bye, Mom!” Zola called, slamming the car door before running off.

“Bye!” Meredith called back. Bailey followed, and little Ellis waved dramatically from the teacher’s arms.

When the car doors closed and silence settled again, Meredith exhaled. “I forget how loud mornings are until they’re quiet.”

Addison smiled, leaning back in the seat. “It’s a good kind of loud. Feels like life.”

Meredith looked at her, just for a second too long. The air between them shifted again, not heavy, just aware.

Addison caught the look, tilted her head. “What?”

Meredith shook her head quickly. “Nothing. You just—” she paused, words slipping before she could catch them, “you fit in. That’s all.”

Addison blinked, a small, almost shy smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They sat there for a beat longer than necessary, neither quite ready to move. The morning sun poured through the windshield, golden and bright, painting Addison’s hair with light.

Then Meredith coughed softly, looking away. “We should get going. I’ve got rounds in an hour.”

Addison nodded, still smiling to herself. “Right. Rounds.”

As Meredith pulled the car out of the lot, their hands brushed briefly over the center console not intentional, just another one of those small collisions that left something unspoken lingering between them.

The hospital was quiet in that heavy way it gets after too many long nights.

Addison sat in the corner of Tova’s room, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on the rhythmic rise and fall of the ventilator. The monitors hummed steadily, too steadily, the kind of artificial calm that only made the silence feel worse.

Her coffee had gone cold hours ago. She didn’t even remember setting it down.

She’d been here all morning . Watching. Waiting. Thinking.

The door creaked open behind her.

“Hey,” Meredith said softly, stepping inside. Amelia followed, flipping through the patient’s chart.

Addison looked up, blinking against the harsh fluorescent light. “Hey,” she echoed, her voice rough around the edges.

Amelia glanced up from the chart. “I thought you were leaving early this morning?”

Addison straightened, crossing her arms. “She started seizing before I could. I had to intubate and put her in an induced coma.” Her tone was clinical, but her eyes betrayed her. “Now I need a world-class surgeon to help me figure out why my landmark transplant patient is circling the drain.”

The words came out sharper than she meant, half exhaustion, half fear.

Amelia softened instantly. “Okay,” she said, calm but firm. “Let’s start with an EEG and an MRI. I’ll run neuro labs and check the medication levels.”

“Thank you,” Addison said quietly. She didn’t look up.

Amelia squeezed her shoulder once before slipping out, already pulling her pager from her pocket.

When the door closed, the silence settled again.

Meredith stayed where she was standing near the foot of the bed, hands in her coat pockets, just watching Addison.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the hum of the machines and the faint hiss of oxygen.

Addison finally broke the silence, voice low. “You ever feel like… the universe is testing how much you can handle before you break?”

Meredith’s chest tightened. “More than I’d like to admit.”

Addison nodded, eyes glistening, still fixed on Tova. “She was supposed to be the one, the patient who proved it could be done. The success story.” Her voice faltered. “And now she’s just… here.”

Meredith stepped closer but didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She knew what it meant to have a patient feel like an extension of yourself, the helplessness of waiting for a miracle that might not come.

Addison exhaled shakily, brushing a hand over her face. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t,” Meredith said softly.

Addison gave a small, bitter laugh. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Meredith replied, steady. “Because I’ve been you. And I’ve asked myself the same question every time someone didn’t make it. You didn’t do anything wrong, Addison. You did everything right. Sometimes the body just…” She trailed off, letting the rest hang unspoken.

Addison finally looked at her, really looked at her and for a second, her guard dropped. Her eyes were red, her shoulders trembling slightly, but she still stood tall.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Meredith offered a faint smile. “You don’t have to thank me.”

For a few moments, they just stood there, two surgeons, two mothers, two people who’d lost too much and kept going anyway , both silently praying that Tova would open her eyes.

Then Meredith’s pager buzzed, loud and jarring in the quiet.

She glanced down, grimaced. “I’ve got to go. Trauma incoming.”

Addison nodded, swallowing hard. “Go. I’ll be here.”

Meredith hesitated at the door. “Text me if anything changes.”

“I will.”

And when Meredith slipped out of the room, Addison sat back down beside Tova’s bed. The machines kept beeping steadily and infuriatingly calm.

Addison rested her elbows on her knees again, whispering softly under her breath, “Come on, Tova. You fought too hard for this.”

 

Later the steady beep of the monitor filled the room it was too even, too mechanical to feel reassuring.

Addison stood at the bedside, arms crossed tightly, her eyes darting between the waveform and the patient’s still face. She’d barely moved since the last time Meredith saw her.

When the door opened, Amelia and Meredith stepped in together. Addison turned, looking at them expectantly, too expectantly.

“CT is negative,” Amelia said, reading off the chart. “Labs look good.”

“She has no history of seizures?” Meredith asked, her tone even but curious.

Addison’s head snapped toward her. “You don’t think I would have told you if there was a history of seizures?”

The words came out sharper than intended , fast, defensive.

Meredith blinked, steady but unfazed. “No family history?” she asked again, calm as ever.

“Same answer,” Addison deadpanned, voice clipped.

“Okay,” Amelia said quietly, “but it is her job to ask the questions.”

Addison exhaled harshly, rubbing her forehead. “No, I get that,” she said, voice shaking slightly before it hardened again. “But maybe just ask smarter questions.”

The flick of her hand was quick and dismissive, but the crack in her composure was starting to show.

Amelia frowned, stepping closer. “You okay?”

Addison froze. Her jaw clenched. “No, I’m not the patient. Ask smarter questions about my patient.” she said finally, her voice low and sharp.

“Addie—” Meredith started softly, the name slipping out before she could stop it.

But that was the wrong move. Addison’s composure shattered like glass.

“No. I just No, no, no,” Addison said quickly, pacing now. Her words came out in bursts not loud, but urgent, unraveling. “I’m Dr. Montgomery. You’re Dr. Grey, and Dr. Shepherd. And we are fixing this woman, this woman who has lost so many pregnancies and then lost her husband. We are fixing this woman whose sisters literally begged her not to participate in my clinical trial because they were so afraid of losing her too.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Addison stopped pacing, pressing her hand against the edge of the hospital bed as if steadying herself. “We are fixing this woman, Dr. Grey and Dr. Shepherd. And ideally,” she added, breath catching, “we’re going to do it without having to remove the donor uterus, setting my study all the way back.”

For a moment, no one moved.

Meredith looked at her really looked and saw the exhaustion , hiding behind the anger. The tightness around Addison’s eyes. The way her hands trembled just slightly.

“Okay, Dr. Montgomery,” Meredith said gently, her voice calm, grounding. Meredith knew Addison taking her frustrations out on her was unfair and she knew Addison knew that too but she understood the pressure.

Amelia nodded, already switching gears, her tone brisk and professional. “I need an MRI. And because she was in status, let’s get an EEG. Rerun her electrolyte panel and immunosuppressant levels.”

Addison swallowed hard, taking a breath to steady herself. “That…” She paused, voice softening. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”

Amelia gave her a quiet nod before heading for the door. Meredith hesitated for a heartbeat, watching Addison, still standing perfectly still beside the bed, staring at the monitor as if she could will the numbers to change.

Then she followed Amelia out, glancing back once more.

Behind them, Addison finally exhaled, her hand slipping from the rail to her side. Her reflection in the glass wall looked like someone she didn’t recognize, tired, raw, desperate to hold it all together.

And in the faint, mechanical hum of the machines, she whispered under her breath, barely audible
“Don’t make me lose you too.”

The hum of the MRI machine filled the silence, low, steady, and suffocating.
Meredith sat on one side of the cramped room, her hands folded in her lap, eyes on the monitor that hadn’t changed in fifteen minutes.
Addison sat across from her, posture perfect, face unreadable. The air between them was too quiet the kind of quiet that buzzed in your ears.

It was as if nothing had happened no shouting, no snapping, no unraveling in front of the interns. Just two surgeons, waiting. Pretending.

Then Addison’s voice cut through the stillness.

“Tell me why you left that transplant guy.”

Meredith’s head lifted, startled. The question came out of nowhere, sharp but curious.

“What?” she said, blinking.

Addison tilted her head, studying her. “You heard me.”

Meredith hesitated. Her throat felt dry. “I— I already told you.”

“No,” Addison said, leaning forward just slightly, her tone quiet but persistent. “You told me you said no to dating. You didn’t tell me why.”

Meredith froze. The way Addison’s eyes lingered too intently, too soft around the edges she made it hard to breathe. There was something like jealousy there, though neither of them would name it.

Meredith sighed, glancing away. “Everything about it was a disaster. It felt… gaslight-y and manipulative. He did it at Maggie’s wedding. Used my children as props.”

Addison’s jaw tightened. “Is he a gaslight-y and manipulative guy,” she asked carefully, “like Derek?”

The name hit the air like a bruise. Meredith looked down, fidgeting with her hands. “Yes.”

Addison nodded slowly, something protective flickering across her face. “Do not let someone take advantage of you, ever, Meredith. I want you to be happy and safe and never with someone you don’t love fully.”

Meredith looked up, surprised by the intensity in her voice, by how much she meant it. Addison’s gaze didn’t waver. There was a message there, buried under the words.

Meredith swallowed hard, breaking eye contact. “Okay, I’m gonna go back to pretending we don’t know each other,” she said quietly, straightening her posture, turning toward the screen. She needed the distance. The control.

Addison’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. “We’ll do that when the films are up.”

“How come you get to make all the rules?” Meredith said, half teasing, half defensive, still not looking at her.

“Because I’m older,” Addison said simply. “And because my patient might be brain damaged and I need to be distracted. So tell me why you said no.”

Her voice softened on the last word, but the command was still there. Meredith sighed, defeated. There was no way out of this conversation.

“I knew for months that I didn’t want what he wanted,” Meredith admitted. “I have my kids, who Amelia and Maggie had to look after when I was in the hospital.”

Addison’s expression faltered just a flicker of something raw. “I heard,” she said quietly. “I prayed.”

Meredith’s head snapped up. Addison didn’t pray. She wasn’t religious, she never had been.
It startled Meredith more than she could say. Maybe Addison had been more upset than she’d let on. Addison had said she didn’t even know how to pray and the only other time she had was when her brother was dying.

“Yeah,” Meredith said softly, unsure of what else to do with that. “So I was essentially drowning, and it didn’t feel right. Every day I felt like I might die of it. Not having the chance to be with the person I really loved, feeling like all the dark thoughts were returning.”

Addison stayed silent, watching her carefully, almost afraid to breathe.

“I love my kids,” Meredith continued, her voice breaking a little. “But every day before I got sick, even when I was put into hospital, I thought I might die of monotony. Of boredom. Of dirty clothes and dirty dishes and laundry. Every day I thought about drinking myself under the table, and every night I cried myself to sleep terrified I wouldn’t get the life I so desperately wanted with the person I wanted. So I was literally hanging by a thread.”

She wiped her eyes quickly, but it didn’t help.

“Nick was relentless,” she said bitterly. “He wanted me and only me, and didn’t care if that was what or who I wanted. He started asking all the time, despite me saying no, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And I judged myself for that, like you’re judging me now.”

Her voice cracked at the end. The weight of it all hung in the air like a storm that hadn’t broken yet.

Addison exhaled shakily, her own mask slipping. “During the pandemic,” she said, barely above a whisper, “I drank so much red wine I seriously considered checking myself into rehab.”

Meredith looked up, eyes wide. “Really?”

Addison nodded, numb. “Really. I looked like a swollen tick.” She gave a humorless laugh that turned into a tremor. “I lost it. Lost it. I hated being stuck at home. You know some people loved it, they baked bread. I don’t like bread. I began to truly hate my video-game-obsessed son and my husband who, by the way, took up a model train hobby that seemed to truly delight him.”

Meredith shook her head, half a laugh escaping through her tears. “No.”

“Exactly,” Addison said, still glassy-eyed.

“I’m sorry, Addison,” Meredith said quietly, meaning it.

“I went really dark, Meredith,” Addison said, her voice trembling now. “I was having Dark, dark thoughts. I was daydreaming about going to sleep and never waking up, and that thought… comforted me.”

Meredith’s tears fell freely now. The silence between them stretched until it felt unbearable.

“If you had died,” Addison said suddenly, voice shaking, “that would’ve been it for me, Meredith.”

Meredith froze, breath catching in her throat. Addison’s words hung heavy, like they’d been waiting years to be said. Addison’s face was distant almost numb but her voice trembled with truth.

“I hate that for you,” Meredith whispered, voice breaking. “And thank you. Thank you… because me too.”

Addison turned away, wiping at her face roughly, forcing herself to breathe. The flicker of vulnerability vanished. Her posture straightened again professional, controlled, unreachable.

She cleared her throat. “Films are up, Dr. Grey.”

Meredith blinked, still crying softly. Just like that, Addison was gone again the armor back in place, the softness erased.

Meredith turned to the glowing screen, but her eyes didn’t focus. She knew she’d lost her once before and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she might be losing her again, this time for good.
The scan room was cold, too bright, and too quiet.
The flickering images on the screen finally loaded, soft shades of gray and white forming something that could either be hope or heartbreak.

Meredith and Addison leaned forward together, shoulders nearly touching, as the last images processed.

Addison’s jaw clenched as she read the report. “Okay,” she said, voice low, steady, professional but there was a tremor under it. “So the graft looks intact. That’s… good.”

Meredith nodded slowly, scrolling through the sequence. “Yeah. But the swelling—”

“—could be postictal,” Addison finished automatically, her voice tense. “Or the beginning of something worse.”

They both knew what that meant.

“I think we should watch her like a hawk,” Meredith said carefully. “There’s still a risk of another seizure.”

Addison’s head snapped up, her composure cracking just slightly. “No,” she said too quickly, standing up. “No, I live in Los Angeles, and as much as I hated Henry when I was trapped in a house with him, I do love my son. I have to get back home to him. I can’t just sit here watching scans for the next two weeks.”

Her words came out rushed, unsteady, the defensive speed of someone trying to convince themselves.

“I mean—” she continued, pacing now. “I arranged for the clinical trial team to monitor her from here on.”

Meredith frowned. The tone, the slip it was off. And Addison had still said nothing about Jake. Nothing at all.

“I can,” Meredith said softly. “Or Bailey can. Or someone else can. What I’m saying is — we can help you, Addison.”

“Don’t say that like it’s a small thing,” Addison snapped suddenly, spinning toward her.

The bite in her voice echoed through the empty room.

She exhaled sharply and turned away, running a hand through her hair before storming toward the attendings’ lounge. Meredith followed quietly, giving her space but not distance.

“I mean it’s risky,” Addison said, pacing again as she poured herself a cup of coffee she wouldn’t drink. “She’s had so many seizures. If she seizes again—”

“We’ve loaded her with medication,” Meredith said, calm but firm. “We watch closely. And if we need to take out the uterus, we will. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Addison stopped mid-pour, the carafe trembling slightly in her hand. She looked lost, like someone who didn’t know which way was up anymore.

“I want to agree with you,” she said finally, putting the pot down with a soft clink. “I really want to.”

Meredith stepped closer. “Okay. What’s stopping you?”

Addison sat down on the couch, elbows on her knees, eyes unfocused. “I need to not kill this patient,” she said quietly. “I need to not let her die.”

Her voice wavered. Meredith said nothing, waiting.

Addison kept talking, words spilling out faster, more desperate now. “Helping her helped me, Meredith. It excited me. The thought of creating something that didn’t exist before it made me want to get out of bed in the morning.”

Meredith’s chest tightened.

“I don’t want to make a selfish decision,” Addison said, shaking her head. “I need to prioritize her life over the study. And I need you to tell me if there’s a chance you think I can do this.”

Meredith’s heart ached at the quiet pleading in her tone. This wasn’t the confident, untouchable Addison Montgomery the hospital knew. This was someone unraveling scared, fragile, on the edge of something darker.

“Dr. Montgomery,” Meredith said gently, crouching down in front of her so their eyes met. “Your patient was so in love with her husband that she’s having a baby with him even though he’s gone. She’s so in love with becoming a mother that she entered your study knowing she was risking her life.”

Addison blinked, tears forming, breath shaking.

“You’re not being selfish,” Meredith continued softly. “You’re doing everything you can to help her live her dream. And that’s an excellent reason to get out of bed in the morning.”

For a moment, Addison said nothing. Just stared at her, eyes glassy, jaw trembling. Meredith reached out, her hands resting lightly on Addison’s shoulders.

Addison exhaled, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She tried to laugh, but it came out broken.

“Go to dinner with me?” she asked suddenly, voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

Meredith blinked, stunned. The vulnerability of it, the way she asked like it was the only thing keeping her upright, hit hard.

“But what about Henry?” Meredith asked softly.

“He’s with his dad,” Addison whispered. Her voice sounded small, far away.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward but it was heavy. The kind that pressed on your ribs until you couldn’t tell if you were breathing right.

Meredith searched Addison’s face, and for the first time, she truly saw it, the deep exhaustion behind her eyes, the faint shake in her hands, the hollowness hiding under the bravado.

Something was wrong. Really wrong.

“Okay,” Meredith said finally, her voice soft but steady. “We’ll go to dinner.”

But she didn’t smile.

Because now, more than ever, she wasn’t just worried about her patient.
She was worried about Addison.

The alarms went off before anyone even had time to breathe.
“Tova’s seizing!” came the shout from the monitor tech, and everything blurred into motion.

Addison’s hands moved on instinct her orders flying out faster than her mind could process them. lorazepam, airway, get neuro back, call for suction. But the tremors didn’t stop.
And when the monitor flatlined for a split second before spiking again, something in Addison’s chest cracked open.

They stabilized her. Barely.

But it was enough to shatter Addison.

She stepped back, eyes unfocused, breathing shallow, as the team moved around her. And then without a word she walked out.

No one stopped her. No one even noticed at first.

Half an hour later, Meredith stood in the hallway, phone in hand, anxiety thrumming through her chest. She’d checked every lounge, the OR gallery, even the chapel. Nothing.

She texted again:
Meredith: Where are you?
Meredith: Addison are you ok?

Nothing.

When Bailey passed by, Meredith didn’t even hesitate. “She’s gone,” she said, voice clipped, scared. “She walked out after the seizure. No one’s seen her since.”

Bailey’s face fell. “Okay,” she said firmly, already turning on her heel. “Then we find her.”

It took another ten minutes before Bailey stopped outside a small, unmarked supply closet near the old peds wing.
She pushed the door open quietly.

Inside, under the harsh fluorescent light, Addison was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, surgical cap still on, mascara smudged, eyes swollen and red.

When she heard the door creak, she looked up, startled then quickly looked away, shame flooding her face.

“I’m sorry,” Addison said, voice breaking. “I just… needed a breath. And I— I can’t go out again, so…”

Her voice cracked mid-sentence, turning into a soft, helpless sob.

Bailey closed the door gently behind her, the small space growing even smaller.

“Well,” Bailey said after a moment, her voice low and calm, “there’s this woman that stands outside the clinic every Tuesday with a sign that says please don’t do this.”

Addison blinked through her tears, confused.

“She doesn’t yell,” Bailey continued softly. “Doesn’t block the door. Even her sign is polite. And it’s still upsetting, just existing there, being that reminder. I can’t even imagine doing what you do out there, what you go through with those women, every day.”

Addison let out a shaky laugh that turned into another sob. “I feel like I’m failing everything,” she said, her voice barely audible. “But I also don’t feel at all.”

Her hands shook as she spoke. “Jake and I split. It was my decision. I couldn’t live with the guilt anymore. It’s not like I cheated, but…” She swallowed hard. “Loving somebody you shouldn’t, somebody that isn’t yours to love feels the same.”

Bailey’s eyes softened, but she didn’t speak yet. She knew Addison wasn’t done.

Addison’s voice trembled more with every word. “Then that somebody goes and almost dies, and it’s like nothing else matters. Your whole world breaks. So you take the chance to go see them, even if you still feel this numbness, while also feeling like you could break any second, even if they don’t know how you feel.”

Her breath came faster, tears falling freely now. “So you drink to try to cope, and when that doesn’t work, you don’t know what to do with yourself.” She paused, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Don’t worry,” she added with a bitter laugh, “I’m sober right now.”

Bailey crouched down slowly, leveling her gaze. “I wouldn’t think you weren’t, Addie.”

But Addison barely heard her. The dam had broken.

“I’m in love with her,” Addison whispered, voice splintering. “I’m in love with Meredith Grey. And I can’t tell anyone. Not after everything. Not after Derek. Not after—”

Her breath hitched. “It’s pathetic. It’s wrong. I thought I was past it, but then she put her hand on a bomb, then she drowned, then almost got shot, almost died having her son and was in a plane crash, got attacked by a patient and almost died from Covid. I thought I came here to finish this surgery, to honor my patient, to just do my job. But every time she looks at me, I feel like I’m coming undone all over again.”

Bailey’s heart clenched, but she stayed quiet, just listening.

“I’m tired, Miranda,” Addison said, curling in on herself. “I’m so damn tired. Of pretending I’m fine, of being strong, of saving everyone else when I don’t even know if I can save myself.”

Bailey took a slow breath, her voice firm but gentle. “You don’t have to be fine all the time, Addison. Not here. Not with me.”

Addison shook her head, crying harder. “But I’m Addison Montgomery. I’m supposed to have it together. I can’t fall apart in a hospital I don’t even belong to anymore.”

Bailey reached out slowly, her hand resting over Addison’s trembling one. “You belong wherever people still care about you,” she said quietly. “And right now, that’s here.”

Addison looked up at her, eyes raw, face streaked with tears and for a long moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Bailey moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Addison didn’t resist. She folded into her, shaking, sobbing against Bailey’s scrub top like she’d been holding it in for years.

Bailey just held her, no lectures, no judgment. Just two doctors, two mothers, sitting on a supply closet floor while the world kept spinning outside.

And for the first time in a long time, Addison let herself break slightly.

When the sobs finally slowed, the room fell into silence, the kind of silence that only comes after someone’s told the truth they’ve been running from.

Addison sat back against the wall, head tilted up, eyes rimmed red.
Bailey stayed beside her on the floor, quiet, giving her space to breathe.

For a while, neither spoke. The hum of the fluorescent light was the only sound.

Then Bailey said softly, “Does Meredith know?”

Addison’s eyes flicked to her, startled. “What?” she croaked, voice still shaky.

“That you’re… this upset,” Bailey said carefully. “That you’re carrying all this.”

Addison let out a broken laugh. “No. God, no. She’s got enough to deal with, her kids, her patients, her research. She doesn’t need me adding to her mess.”

Bailey studied her a long moment. “Addie, she’s not your boss. She’s your friend. And friends don’t get to decide who gets to carry what. That’s not how it works.”

Addison shook her head, staring at the floor. “You don’t understand. I can’t tell her. If I start talking, I won’t stop. And I can’t fall apart in front of her again. Not her.”

Bailey’s tone softened, but there was still that firm Bailey edge. “You’re human. You get to fall apart. You think I haven’t done that in this very hospital? Hell, I think this floor still remembers me crying in a supply room.”

That earned the faintest smile from Addison, a ghost of one, at least.

Bailey looked her over, eyes narrowing with maternal precision. “You need to rest. Eat something. And maybe—” she hesitated, choosing her words carefully “maybe talk to her. You don’t have to tell her everything, but tell her something. She deserves to know you’re not okay.”

Addison just nodded numbly, eyes glassy again. “I’ll try.”

Bailey squeezed her shoulder once before standing. “Good. Because I’m not leaving this hospital tonight until I know you’re steady.”

 

A few minutes later, Bailey stepped out of the closet, the door clicking shut softly behind her.
She found Meredith waiting down the hall, pacing near the nurses’ station. The relief that flashed across her face when she saw Bailey was instant.

“Where is she?” Meredith asked, breathless. “Is she okay?”

Bailey’s voice was low. “She’s in one piece. Shaken, but she’ll be all right. Just needed a minute to breathe.”

Meredith’s eyes narrowed, searching Bailey’s face. “She’s not fine though, is she?”

Bailey sighed, crossing her arms. “She’s not. She’s tired. She’s been through more than she’s saying. You know how she is, she keeps it together till she can’t.”

Meredith nodded slowly, guilt flickering in her expression. “I should’ve been with her.”

“Don’t start that,” Bailey cut in. “You’re not her keeper. But I am worried, Meredith. She’s running on fumes she’s emotional, and physically tired of all of it. You’re close to her. If she’s not talking to me, maybe she’ll talk to you.”

Meredith frowned, her throat tightening. “What kind of… worried are we talking about?”

“The kind where she’s brittle,” Bailey said honestly. “One more bad hit and she could break.” She lowered her voice. “She needs a friend, not a boss, not a colleague. Someone who’ll sit with her and not ask for anything.”

Meredith looked away, eyes stinging. “She’s been through so much. I thought she had things under control.”

“Addison Montgomery has never had things under control,” Bailey said softly. “She just makes it look like she does.”

Meredith let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay. I’ll check on her.”

Bailey gave her a small, approving nod. “Good. Be gentle. She’s… raw right now.”

As Bailey walked off toward the elevators, Meredith stood still for a moment then turned toward the hallway where the supply closets were. Her chest tightened, a strange mix of dread and tenderness twisting together.

She took a deep breath and started walking.

Because whatever Addison Montgomery had left to give, Meredith Grey wasn’t going to let her face it alone.

Meredith had just rounded the corner toward the supply closet when she heard her name.

“Meredith!”

Amelia was jogging toward her, still in her scrubs, one hand holding onto the small hand of a boy maybe eight or nine. He looked tired, and had the unmistakable posture of a kid who’s been traveling for hours.

Meredith stopped mid-step, her mind still half in crisis mode. “Amelia? What, who is this?”

“This,” Amelia said, slightly breathless, crouching beside the boy, “is Henry Montgomery.”

Meredith blinked, processing. “Wait, Addison’s Henry?”

Amelia nodded, giving the boy a small smile. “Yep. Jake had an emergency consult in Texas , so he flew here with Henry to drop him off. But apparently Addison’s phone’s been off all day, so nobody told her. Jake called me to pick him up.”

“Oh my god,” Meredith muttered, looking at the kid, so much like his mother it made her heart ache. “Are you ok buddy?”

“Yep” he sighed. “Maybe get him a snack Mer, you’re hungry right Henry?. Neuro board review in ten. Can you—” she gestured toward Henry “keep an eye on him until Addison surfaces? Please?”

Meredith blinked, still caught between the emotional chaos of the last hour and this new, small, very real responsibility. “Uh, yeah. Of course. Yeah, of course I can.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said quickly, squeezing Henry’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy, this is Meredith. She’s a friend of your mom’s, okay? She’s gonna hang out with you till your mom’s finished.”

Henry nodded politely, clutching his small backpack straps. “Okay. Hi.”

“Hi, Henry,” Meredith said softly, smiling. “So you’re hungry? You want to get something from the cafeteria?”

He shook his head. “Dad said Mom was gonna be here. But he had to go back to Texas for a big case.” His voice was steady mature, practiced. Too practiced.

Meredith’s smile faltered a little. “That’s… a lot of travel for one day.”

Henry just shrugged like it wasn’t new. “It’s fine. My dad is always in Texas .”

Something about that answer made Meredith’s chest tighten, a quiet realization threading through her confusion. But before she could ask anything else, Amelia’s pager went off again, sharp and urgent.

“I gotta run,” Amelia said, already backing away. “Mer, you’re a lifesaver.”

Meredith called after her, “Wait does Jake know Addison’s in the middle of a huge case?”

Amelia shrugged helplessly. “He didn’t say much, just that it was important she take him. Looked like he was running on coffee. I didn’t ask questions.”

Then she was gone, leaving Meredith standing in the hallway, one hand hovering awkwardly near the small boy now looking around at the endless bustle of Grey Sloan.

Meredith sighed, crouched down to Henry’s level, and smiled again. “Well, it’s been a weird day for both of us, huh?”

He nodded, quiet, the way kids do when they’re holding too much inside.

“Tell you what,” she said gently, “why don’t we go to my office ? You can sit, and I’ll find your mom.”

“Okay,” Henry said softly.

Meredith took his hand, so small and warm, and started walking toward the her office. Every step she took, her brain was trying to piece together why none of this made sense:

Addison’s breakdown.
Her silence about Jake.
The boy whose father had just dropped him off and flown across the country.

Something was wrong.
Something Addison hadn’t told her.

Meredith had finally settled Henry in her office with a small snack, a granola bar and juice and he immediately made himself at home.

“Where do I sit?” he asked, scanning the room.

“This chair’s yours,” Meredith said, pointing to the seat infront her desk.

Henry plopped down, one leg dangling over the armrest. “Cool,” he said, taking a bite. He wrinkled his nose at the juice. “This is a little tangy.”

Meredith smiled, sliding into her chair across from him. “I’m glad you’re comfortable,” she said softly. “Want to tell me a little about yourself?”

Henry shrugged casually, leaning back. “Well, my mom thinks you’re the best doctor in the world, so I already know you’re cool.”

Meredith blinked, a little surprised. “She said that?”

“Yup,” Henry said matter-of-factly, crunching the granola bar. “She also said Seattle is kinda her favorite place, even though she never really said much about it to me.”

Meredith’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t realized Addison had liked Seattle, let alone told Henry. “Seattle?” she asked quietly.

Henry nodded. “She misses it sometimes. She just… doesn’t always talk about missing things.”

Meredith smiled faintly, touched. “I get that.”

Henry tilted his head, studying her. “Do you have any kids?”

Meredith’s eyes softened. “I do. Three. Zola, Bailey, and Ellis.”

Henry’s mouth fell open slightly. “Three? That’s awesome. What are they like?”

Meredith leaned back, relaxing a little now. “Zola’s ambitious, a little bossy sometimes. Bailey… is a ball of fire and chaos and always on some new adventure or trying to scare his sisters . And Ellis… well, she’s still little, but she’s very caring about the people she loves and she’s very smart.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully, crunching his granola. “How old is Bailey?”

Meredith paused, then laughed quietly. “He’s eight like you.”

Henry grinned. “Cool, when can I meet him? I want to be a trauma surgeon when I grow up, you know?. And I’m in third grade.”

“That’s impressive, I’m sure you’ll meet him soon” Meredith said warmly. “Do you like school?”

“Yeah,” Henry said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair. “I like science. And surgery. I like fixing things.”

Meredith smiled, feeling a soft warmth spread through her chest. “My kids all want to be doctors, too,” she said. “Zola’s already decided on neuro surgery, Bailey’s leaning trauma like you, and Ellis… well, she’s still figuring it out, but she loves learning about babies and like I said she is the sweetest most caring little girl I know, so I think she’d do well at baby surgery.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Ellis must be like Addison for that,” he said, with a small, knowing grin.

Meredith blinked, then laughed softly. “Yeah she is I guess…hang on that is mom to you not Addison”

Henry munched quietly for a few moments after giggling, looking around the office. Then, his tone shifted a little, more curious. “Do you like being a doctor?”

Meredith thought for a second, watching him. “I do. I love it. I love helping people. And I love seeing the people I care about grow and thrive… even if it’s exhausting sometimes.”

Henry nodded seriously. “I want to do that too. Save lives. Be the best at it.”

Meredith’s heart softened completely. “You’re on your way,” she said, smiling. “With that attitude, you definitely are.”

Henry grinned, finishing his granola bar. “Thanks, Dr. Grey. You’re really nice. My mom’s right.”

Meredith chuckled quietly, shaking her head. “Addison’s got good taste I guess.”

Henry just smiled, leaning back in the chair like he owned the office now.

And for a few quiet minutes, Meredith let herself just enjoy the calm, the soft chatter, and the little confidence radiating off this tiny boy, a momentary reprieve from all the chaos swirling through the hospital that day.

Meredith pressed the 911 page into her old pager hoping Addison still had hers with a soft sigh.

A few minutes later, the door swung open, and Addison stepped in. Her hair was pulled back, eyes tired but still sharp, shoulders tense. She exhaled the second she saw Meredith.

“I—” she started, then paused, scanning the office. Her words caught in her throat.

Henry was perched on the visitor chair, munching on a granola bar, arms crossed casually. He looked up at her, grinning.

“Mom!” he said cheerfully. “You were right about Meredith! She’s so cool!” Running over to hug her.

Addison froze, eyes wide. “Oh… hi,” she said, voice a little confused .

Meredith stepped forward quickly. “Henry has been chilling with me for a while,” she said, gesturing to the boy. “He came with Amelia, who picked him up from the airport . Your husband had an emergency in Texas or something, so he flew with him here first.Your phone’s been off, so you didn’t know.”

Addison’s shoulders slumped, and she rubbed her eyes for a moment, trying to process. “Oh. Right. Okay… I missed you buddy” she said as he left the hug to sit on the sofa.

Henry, oblivious to the tension, grinned at her. “Mom, I like Mer. She’s fun. And she’s really smart.”

Addison blinked at him, lips twitching in a small smile. “Oh…. That’s good.”

Henry leaned forward, teasing, eyes sparkling. “You know, I think you like her too.”

Addison froze again, glancing at Meredith, whose lips twitched but remained composed. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she smiled faintly anyway.

Meredith cleared her throat. “Henry, why don’t you finish your snack and let me and your mom chat?”

Henry tilted his head, clearly amused, but he obeyed, hopping down and heading toward the small bookshelf with model brains and stuffed animals.

Addison finally let herself exhale. “I… I just wanted to see you,” she admitted quietly to Meredith once the boy was distracted.

Meredith gave her a small, steady smile. “I know. I felt the same.”

They exchanged a glance, warm, charged, and unspoken but both knew this was not the moment for a long conversation. Henry was still in the room, blissfully unaware of the complicated adult emotions filling the space.

Addison straightened, taking a deep breath. “So… is it ok if we stay with you again tonight while I figure things out?”

Meredith nodded. “Yes. Of course and don’t worry, we can still go out I got a sitter.”

Henry looked up from his stuffed monkey, grinning. “Mom, I think you should sit closer to Meredith. You like her more than you admit.”

Addison froze again, giving Meredith a quick, sheepish look. Meredith bit back a laugh, keeping her tone neutral.

“Henry,” Addison said mildly, “that’s enough teasing. Let’s give Meredith credit for looking after you.”

Henry rolled his eyes dramatically but went back to his snack, still smiling.

Addison finally sank into the chair opposite Meredith, exhaling slowly. “I guess we’re going to have a serious talk… eventually.”

Meredith nodded slightly, her gaze steady. “Eventually. Right now, we just… go home and get settled.”

Addison let a faint laugh escape. “Yeah. I can do that.”

But inside, both of them knew that once Henry left the room, the conversation they’d been avoiding for the last few days
was inevitable.

The ride from the hospital was quiet, except for the occasional hum of Henry’s chatter. He had taken up the back seat, gripping his backpack and talking about school and the plane ride with his dad.

Meredith drove, hands steady on the wheel, glancing at Addison subtly. Addison’s eyes stared out the window, unfocused, lips pressed together. Meredith wanted to ask if she was okay, but she held back and waited for the right moment.

When they pulled into Meredith’s driveway, Henry practically bounced out of the car, heading straight for the door. Meredith followed with Addison, who trailed behind slowly, her hands tucked in her pockets.

“Wait till you meet the rest of the crew,” Meredith said with a small smile.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of lavender and warm laundry. Zola, Bailey, and Ellis immediately ran toward Henry.

“Hi! I’m Zola!” the eldest exclaimed. “Do you want to see my new robot?”

Bailey grinned. “Or we could play tag in the backyard. I bet I can catch you!”

Ellis, still clutching a stuffed animal, whispered, “I hope he likes my teddy’s .”

Henry’s face lit up. “I like all of that stuff!” He quickly sized them up, clearly confident. “I want to see your robot first,” he said, Zola grabbing his hand.

The three Grey kids showed Henry around, laughing and talking like old friends, while Meredith hung back, watching him move through the house with natural ease. Addison lingered in the doorway, smiling faintly at the chaos.

After a few minutes, Addison quietly slipped outside to the porch. She leaned against the railing, inhaling the warm late-morning air. Her hands gripped the edge as she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recenter herself. The hospital, the seizures, the chaos with Henry, all of it pressed in at once, and she just needed a quiet second.

Meredith noticed and walked onto the porch, standing a respectful distance away.

Addison let out a slow breath. “I… just... Just needed a minute,” she admitted. She glanced toward the backyard where the kids were chasing each other. “They’re… great. You’ve got a lot of energy in this house.”

Meredith chuckled lightly. “You get used to it. So… do you still wanna go out for dinner, I know it’s been a long day?”

Addison turned her gaze back to Meredith, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. I do,” she said quietly, but the tension in her shoulders lingered.

Meredith gave her a reassuring nod. “Good. We’ll make it happen. But… you okay?”

Addison hesitated, then nodded again, letting the weight of the porch and the air and the moment soak in. “I’ll be fine. We’ll talk later, I want to talk.”

Inside, the laughter of Henry and the Grey kids carried across the house. Outside, the two women stood silently for a moment, both aware that eventually they’d have to talk about more than just dinner.

But for now, this the porch, the kids, the warm sunlight was enough.

The evening light slanted through the living room windows as Meredith guided Henry toward Bailey’s room.

“Okay, Henry,” Meredith said with a small smile, “this is your space for the night. Cars, trains, whatever you want.”

Henry’s eyes lit up as he surveyed the room. “Awesome! I have to test my new racing car against Bailey’s!” He immediately dumped his backpack on the floor and started setting up cars along the floor.

Bailey, not wanting to be outdone, grabbed his favorite miniature fire truck. “You better watch out I’m undefeated!”

Henry grinned confidently. “We’ll see about that.”

The two boys disappeared into a world of racing cars, sound effects, and mock crashes, their laughter bouncing off the walls. Meredith smiled, letting them go, before walking back into the living room to check on the girls and Addison.

Addison had claimed the couch, settling back with a mug of tea in her hands. She looked more relaxed than she had all day, though her shoulders still held a quiet tension.

Ellis toddled over, holding a well-loved baby doll. “Addie… make her feel better, please” she said, eyes wide and hopeful.

Addison smiled, setting her tea down and crouching to meet Ellis at eye level. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s sick and not feeling well Dr Addie,” Ellis whispered.

Addison gently took the doll and pretended to whisper in its ear. “Shh… it’s okay, little one. You’re safe now,” she cooed, bouncing it slightly in her hands. Ellis giggled, and before long, her tiny arms were wrapped around Addison’s neck as she nestled on the couch.

Meanwhile, Zola had spread her textbooks across the coffee table. “Addie, can you help me with this math problem?” she asked, voice tinged with frustration.

Addison shifted, picking up Zola’s pencil and leaning over to help. “Alright, show me what you’ve got,” she said patiently, guiding Zola through the steps while the older girl’s frown slowly softened into understanding.

By the time Zola finished her homework, Ellis had dozed off, curled in Addison’s arms, soft breaths rising and falling against Addison’s chest. Addison smiled down at her quietly, careful not to disturb her.

A soft buzz at the door signaled the babysitter’s arrival. Addison carefully rose, cradling Ellis like a feather, and carried her upstairs to her little bed. She gently tucked the blankets around the child and kissed the top of her head.

“All tucked in, goodnight baby,” Addison whispered. Ellis murmured something inaudible in her sleep, still wrapped in warmth.

When Addison returned to the living room, Meredith was waiting with a small smile. “Ready?” she asked.

Addison nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here for a while.”

They slipped on jackets and shoes and quietly stepped out into the cool night, leaving the house buzzing faintly with the soft murmur of sleeping and playing children behind them.

Walking side by side to the car, the silence between them was comfortable, but charged. Neither spoke immediately about the emotional chaos of the day, the breakdowns, the hospital, the secrets, but each knew it was waiting. Dinner would be the bridge.

As Meredith opened the car door for Addison, she let her gaze linger a moment longer than necessary, feeling the subtle weight of their connection. Addison caught it, smiling faintly, letting her exhale slowly as if this small escape, dinner, conversation, the quiet of night was the only thing keeping the world from collapsing around them.

The restaurant was small and quietly lit, tucked into a narrow side street where the sound of the city felt far away. The kind of place that felt private even when other people were near. Meredith and Addison sat across from each other in a corner booth, two glasses of water between them and plates of sushi that neither of them had touched much.

Addison was the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry about Henry,” she said softly, twisting her napkin in her hands. “It’s… a lot to drop on someone, I know. He was supposed to be with Jake, but—” she paused, searching for the right phrasing, “things changed faster than either of us expected.”

Meredith looked up from her plate. “He’s a lovely boy, Addison. Really. He’s polite and funny, and he already made himself completely at home. Bailey’s thrilled to have someone to play cars with.”

That earned a faint, real smile from Addison, the kind that started slow but reached her eyes. “He is a great kid,” she said quietly. “And I wish I could take all the credit, but honestly, he’s been holding me together more than I’ve been holding him.” She hesitated before she said it, voice dropping. “Jake and I… we’re not together anymore.”

The words sat heavy between them. Meredith didn’t move for a moment; she could feel the echo of Addison’s voice lingering in her chest. She thought she’d imagined this moment a thousand different ways over the years, Addison saying something that would make the distance between them make sense but now that it was here, she wasn’t sure what to feel. Relief. Guilt. Hope. All tangled together and unnameable.

“I’m sorry,” Meredith said quietly, meaning more than the words could hold.

Addison gave a small shrug. “It was inevitable. We loving seeing each other long before we actually stopped living together.” Her tone wasn’t bitter just honest, resigned. Then she looked up, her expression softening. “You know, your kids are incredible, Meredith. Zola’s brilliant. Bailey’s got your stubborn streak. And Ellis…”

Her voice caught slightly as she said the name. “Ellis is magic. The way she talks, how she sees things, it’s like she believes everything in the world is fixable. She handed me her doll earlier and told me to ‘make her all better, Dr. Addie.’” Addison laughed under her breath. “I hadn’t been called that in years. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until she said it.”

Meredith smiled, though her chest tightened a little. “She really likes you. They all do.”

“I really like them too,” Addison said softly, eyes still down on her plate. “I could’ve stayed there all night, just sitting with them.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, it was heavy with all the things that didn’t need to be said.

When they finally left the restaurant, the air outside was cool and smelled faintly of rain. Addison wrapped her arms around herself, and Meredith fell into step beside her, brushing their shoulders together now and then as they walked without meaning to.

Addison stopped when she saw the dessert stand on the corner. “They have raspberry sorbet,” she said with the faintest spark in her voice.

Meredith smiled. “Of course they do.”

A few minutes later, Addison was balancing a small paper cup in one hand, a plastic spoon in the other. Meredith leaned closer, teasing. “You look too serious about that.”

“I’m focusing,” Addison said, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“Here,” Meredith said, scooping a spoonful and holding it out. “Let me help.”

Addison laughed, leaning forward just as Meredith moved the spoon and it missed entirely, landing a streak of bright pink sorbet right on the corner of Addison’s mouth.

“Oh my God,” Addison gasped, half laughing, half horrified. “Meredith!”

Meredith doubled over laughing, wiping her eyes. “You moved!”

“I did not move!” Addison said, mock-offended, grabbing a napkin and trying to clean the spot but only smudging it further.

“Hold still,” Meredith said, stepping forward instinctively and reaching up to wipe the mark with the edge of her thumb. The laughter fell away for a moment as they both froze in the small space between them.

Addison’s eyes lifted to meet hers, and for a second, neither of them breathed. The world felt smaller just the two of them and the soft glow of the streetlights painting meredith’s hair gold.

Then Meredith smiled again, softly this time. “There. Better.”

Addison didn’t move right away. “Thanks,” she said finally, her voice quieter than before.

They walked back to the car without saying much more. The night felt warm again, somehow lighter but charged, like something had shifted between them without either of them daring to name it.

 

The house was quiet again, the sort of stillness that only came once the kids were asleep. The faint hum of the dishwasher filled the background. Meredith stood barefoot in the kitchen, hair damp from her shower, wearing a soft navy T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Two mugs sat on the counter, steaming.

Addison padded down the stairs moments later, wearing loose silk pajamas in pale blue, with her hair pulled into a loose bun that framed her face. She hesitated in the doorway, watching Meredith move around her kitchen with an ease that was almost hypnotic.

“You made… juju?” Addison’s voice was a whisper of surprise and nostalgia.

Meredith turned, a small smirk forming. “Of course I did. You used to get it every time things went wrong, post-surgery, post-breakup, post-‘everything is a disaster.’ I figured today qualified.”

Addison blinked, a little taken aback. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” Meredith said simply, sliding a mug toward her.

Addison laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, Grey.” She took a sip and it hit her like a memory. Warm. Sweet. Familiar. It was almost too much.

Meredith leaned against the counter, watching her reaction. “Good?”

Addison nodded slowly, setting the mug down as if it were something fragile. “Perfect.” Then, after a pause “You always do that.”

“Do what?” Meredith asked.

“Show up exactly how people need you to. Even when they don’t say it.” Addison looked down at her cup, her tone quieter now, the weight of the day pressing back on her.

Meredith didn’t reply just offered a small, knowing smile before grabbing her own mug. “Come on. Movie?”

Addison raised a brow. “What kind of movie?”

“The kind that doesn’t make you think too hard,” Meredith said, already leading the way upstairs.

They settled onto Meredith’s bed like it was the most natural thing in the world (which it most definitely was not and both Meredith and Addison were internally freaking the fuck out) a soft cocoon of blankets and flickering lamplight. Meredith sat cross-legged near the headboard, Addison beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed now and then. The screen’s light danced across their faces. For a while, they just sat there, sipping juju and pretending the world wasn’t heavy.

But as the movie played it was something forgettable, with easy laughter and background music. Addison found herself studying Meredith instead of the screen. The way she tilted her head when she smiled, the curve of her fingers around the mug, the exhaustion that still managed to look like grace.

Meredith noticed. “What?” she asked softly, catching Addison staring.

Addison shook her head quickly. “Nothing. Just… thank you. For tonight. For all of it.”

Meredith’s voice softened. “You don’t have to thank me, Addie.”

“I know,” Addison said, her voice a little too quiet. “But I wanted to.”

The movie kept playing, but the air had changed heavier now, charged with something fragile and dangerous. Meredith turned her eyes back to the screen, pretending she didn’t feel it too.

 

The movie had long since faded into silence, the credits flickering faintly before the TV dimmed to black. The room was mostly dark now, lit only by the lamp on Meredith’s bedside table, soft, amber light pooling between them.

Addison sat near the edge of the bed, knees drawn slightly in, the mug of “juju” forgotten on the nightstand. Her eyes were distant, glassy. She took a long, slow breath, as if trying to decide whether to speak or stay silent forever.

“I should probably head out,” she whispered, her voice small.

Meredith didn’t move from her spot near the headboard. “Stay,” she said quietly.

Addison froze, her body stilling mid-step.

Meredith met her eyes calm, steady, but firm. “Stay, Addie. Please.”

Addison stood , her movements stiff, as though her body were running on muscle memory alone. “I should go,” she said quietly, already reaching for the sweater draped over the chair. Her voice sounded hollow, thin around the edges.

“Addie—”

“I just— I need air, or—”

Before she could finish, Meredith rose and caught her arm gently. Addison froze. Meredith didn’t say anything for a moment, just pulled her closer and wrapped her arms around her in a firm, protective hold.

That was all it took.

Addison’s throat closed up so fast it hurt. Her chest tightened, her breath catching in small, shaky gasps as she tried to keep it together. The back of her eyes burned.

“Hey,” Meredith whispered, voice low and careful. “What’s wrong?”

Addison shook her head against Meredith’s shoulder, her voice breaking on a single word. “Don’t—”

“Addison,” Meredith said again, softer this time, brushing her hand through Addison’s hair. “Talk to me.”

That was when the sound came, a strangled, broken sob that tore through the silence. Addison gripped the front of Meredith’s shirt, her body trembling as she fought to breathe. It wasn’t the clean kind of crying, the cathartic kind. It was the ugly, raw, painful kind, the kind that comes when you’ve held everything in too long.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she choked out, her voice ragged. “Every day I get up and I try to be… strong and fine and— and I’m so tired, Meredith. I am so tired.”

Something in Meredith broke at the softness in her voice. She sat back down with Addison in her lap, the mattress dipping slightly between them. The air felt heavier than before.

After a moment, Addison spoke again, her voice shaking. “I… had a bad day.”

Meredith turned toward her fully. “How bad?”

Addison’s lip trembled before she could form words. “I broke down. In front of Bailey.”

Meredith blinked. “My son or Miranda?”

Addison gave a humorless laugh through the tears that had already started falling. “Miranda. Not your Bailey. He’s too little for this kind of meltdown.”

She dragged her palms down her face, as if she could scrub the emotion off. “I don’t even know what happened. I was fine, and then… I wasn’t. I just… couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t be in my own head anymore. Everything felt so loud.”

Meredith shifted closer, careful, gentle. “Addison…”

Addison shook her head. “I know what you’re going to say, but it’s not that simple. I’m not… fine, Meredith. I haven’t been for a long time. I keep waking up and wondering what the point is and going through motions, surgeries, smiles. I can save everyone else but I can’t even… feel like I want to be here half the time.”

Meredith’s heart twisted. “Addie…”

Addison’s eyes met hers, full of exhaustion. “It’s like I’m trapped in a loop of grief, guilt, work, sleep, repeat. And I hate admitting that. Because I’m supposed to have it together. I’m supposed to be the strong one.”

Meredith reached out, resting her hand on the back Addison’s head softly , grounding her. “You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

Addison’s laugh was short and bitter. “That’s the thing, though. When I finally stopped pretending… I didn’t even know who I was underneath it all. During lockdown, I’d go days without talking to anyone. Henry would play in the living room, Jake would try to keep things light, and I’d just… sit there. Numb. Watching the hours pass like I was watching someone else’s life.”

She paused, breathing shakily. “I started drinking. Too much. Every night. It was the only way to quiet everything in my head. And I told myself it was fine, that it was normal, that everyone was coping. But it wasn’t coping. It was… disappearing.”

Meredith felt her own tears sting. “Addie, you don’t have to carry that alone anymore.”

Addison shook her head slowly, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor. “You got sick, Meredith. And it… it shattered me. I didn’t know how to deal with that kind of fear. I realized if I lost you too, I’d—” she stopped, the words catching in her throat, “I’d have nothing left. You were this… this reminder that good still existed, even if we hadn’t seen each other in years. That I wasn’t completely gone yet. And then you got sick, and I… I didn’t know if I could keep breathing. I felt… like stopping it all, Meredith. Like going to sleep and never waking up would be… peaceful. And I couldn’t say it out loud to anyone because I’m supposed to be… okay.”

Meredith’s breath caught. She moved closer, reaching for Addison’s hands, their fingers intertwining.

Meredith swallowed hard, trying not to cry herself. “Addie…”

“I don’t even know why it hit me that way,” Addison continued, staring somewhere over Meredith’s shoulder. “I just remember sitting on the floor one night, everything spinning, and thinking ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ And then I realized I wasn’t just talking about the hospital or the patients. I meant… everything.”

Her voice cracked so sharply that Meredith flinched.

Meredith didn’t let her go. She pulled Addison fully into her arms, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other rubbing slow circles against her back.

“Addie,” she whispered, voice breaking. “You did keep breathing. You survived it. Even when it felt impossible.”

Addison’s shoulders started to shake again, tears sliding freely down her cheeks. “Barely,” she said, voice trembling. “Some days I still feel like I’m right back there. Numb, waiting for something terrible to happen, waiting to stop hurting but not knowing how.”

Meredith slid closer until their knees touched, her hand steady on Addison’s shoulder. “You’re not alone in that,” she said quietly. “I’ve been there too. That numbness… that thought that maybe it would be easier not to feel anything at all. But it’s not easier, Addie. It’s just… emptier.”

Addison pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, her breath hitching. “I hate that I let it get this bad. I hate that I drank to make it stop. I hate that I feel like I have to earn being alive.”

Meredith’s tears fell silently. “You don’t have to earn it. You just have to keep choosing it.”

Addison looked up at her, eyes raw and searching. “And what if I can’t?”

Meredith took her hand again, squeezing firmly. “Then I’ll help you remember how.”

They sat there in the half-dark, both crying quietly, two women who had saved hundreds of lives but still struggled to save their own. Addison leaned forward until her forehead touched Meredith’s shoulder, and Meredith wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight.

For a long while, neither spoke. The sound of their breathing filled the room, uneven but real.

Finally, Addison whispered, “You always see me, even when I don’t want to be seen.”

“I’ve never stopped,” Meredith said softly.

And there it was, the unspoken truth between them, hanging in the air like fragile glass. Neither said the words, but both felt them.

When Addison finally fell silent, Meredith brushed a strand of red hair away from her face. “You’re allowed to need help, Addie. You’re allowed to fall apart. You don’t have to disappear.”

Addison’s voice cracked. “Promise me that if I start to… fade again, you’ll pull me back.”

Meredith nodded, her own tears slipping down her cheeks. “I promise.”

They stayed there like that tangled in silence and grief and something far deeper than friendship until exhaustion started to claim them both.

Outside, the city was still. Inside, for the first time in a long while, Addison wasn’t alone in the dark.

After what felt like hours of tears, confessions, and trembling sobs, Addison’s breathing began to steady, though her shoulders still shook lightly. Meredith hadn’t let go once, her arms wrapped around Addison as if refusing to let the world push her away again.

“You don’t have to fix everything all at once,” Meredith whispered softly, brushing her thumb along the nape of Addison’s neck, letting her fingers trace the curve of her shoulder. “You just have to start somewhere.”

Addison tilted her head into Meredith’s chest, closing her eyes. “I… I don’t even know what somewhere looks like anymore,” she admitted, voice small.

Meredith kissed the top of her head gently, then pressed her forehead to Addison’s. “Somewhere looks like this. Right here. Right now. You’re not alone anymore, Addie.”

For a while, neither spoke. The sound of the rain outside was gentle, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat. Meredith’s hands wandered slightly, stroking Addison’s back in long, soothing motions. Addison let out a small sigh, leaning closer, her cheek resting against Meredith’s chest.

“You know,” Addison murmured after a few minutes, voice almost lost in the quiet, “I never thought I’d feel… this safe again. Not after… everything.”

“You’re safe with me,” Meredith said simply. “Always.”

Addison nuzzled slightly, brushing her fingers along Meredith’s side as if testing the truth of her words. Meredith’s hand found Addison’s hair, running slow fingers through the soft strands, tucking a loose lock behind her ear.

Minutes stretched on. Words weren’t needed anymore because their bodies communicated what they couldn’t say: trust, relief, longing, and a fragile comfort. Addison shifted slightly, wrapping her arm around Meredith’s waist, and Meredith responded instinctively, holding her tighter, resting her chin atop Addison’s head.

“Maybe… maybe I could stay here tonight?” Addison asked softly, voice tentative.

Meredith’s lips curved in a gentle smile. “You don’t need to ask,” she said. “You’re staying.”

Addison exhaled, letting her forehead drop fully against Meredith’s chest. Meredith’s hand moved again, tracing slow, comforting circles across Addison’s back while the other continued to stroke her hair.

Eventually, exhaustion took over. Addison’s breathing deepened, her small trembles fading into stillness. Meredith adjusted slightly so that she could hold Addison more comfortably, resting her cheek against Addison’s head and closing her eyes as well.

The room grew darker as the lamp dimmed and the house slipped into silence. Outside, the rain continued its steady fall, a soft, calming rhythm. Inside, two people clung to each other, letting the quiet and warmth and safety carry them into sleep.

Meredith’s thumb traced the line of Addison’s jaw once more before her hand fell to rest lightly on her back. Addison murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, nestling closer. Meredith breathed it in, the subtle scent of Addison’s shampoo mingling with the faint aroma of juju lingering on her skin.

For the first time in a long while, neither had to pretend. Neither had to be strong. They slept like this entwined in comfort and trust, holding on to each other against the weight of everything they had carried alone.

And for a brief, fragile night, the world outside could wait.